The Journey of 1000 Miles
by Giwu
Summary: How did Grissom and Sara meet?
1. Chapter 1

Spring 1991

Chapter One

Sara Sidle was livid. Well, truth be told, she had left livid behind a minute ago and was well into the range of being totally pissed off. Her voice broke as she looked at her advisor and snarled, "You have got to be kidding me! I've been going to school for four straight years without a break. I was taking the summer off to get ready for graduate school at Harvard. I still don't have a place to live, I need to try and find a job out there…" she trailed off helplessly.

She was trying very hard not to whine or cry, but felt the frustration welling inside her. This was going to be her summer-a chance to hang out with friends and just take it easy before she headed to the East coast and they entered the job market. As much as she enjoyed the challenge of college, spring break had just ended last week and Sara had already calculated the number of minutes she had left in the classroom before the freedom of three blissful months of vacation. The most complicated thing she had planned to do was to see how much time she could spend at the beach. She wanted to be a typical 22-year-old for just one moment in time.

Dr. Edward Sayers shook his head in sympathy. "I don't know how this happened, Sara, really I don't. You need one more science class to graduate and since its March, it's too late to get you into a class this semester," he said. "You're going to have to take one class this summer. It will only be for eight weeks. There will still be some time to kick up your heels before you have to buckle down in Cambridge.

Sara scowled at the man who had been her advisor and mentor for four years. "What about a correspondence course or some kind of independent study?" She queried. "Couldn't I get a waiver of some kind? I have taken almost every advanced science course offered here. I should have close to 130 hours and only 120 are needed to graduate"

Again Sayers shook his head. "You have to have a lab science-outside of your major. Two courses are being offered this summer that meet the requirement. Intro to Archaeology and Intro to Entomology," he said. "Professor King has taught here for years and really does make the subject interesting and doesn't dwell on the popular culture aspects. It isn't a horrible course to take during the summer. The other class is taught by a visiting professor from the Los Angeles coroner's office. I met him briefly last year and he has done remarkable work in determining time of death from bug activity on the corpses. He published a paper a couple of years ago.

She sighed and shuddered visibly. "So I am looking at either bug geeks or Indiana Jones wanna-bes?"

Sayers looked at her and smiled, "These are freshman level introduction courses, no matter what you pick, you will probably be able to sleep through them and still get an A," he said, knowing full well she wouldn't dream of slacking off this close to the end of her Bachelor's degree. "I grabbed the syllabi from last year; I thought that might help you decide which one you would prefer."

Sara glanced at the pages. Intro to Entomology had a lot of fieldwork, tests and quizzes but no papers to write. Intro to Archeology had only two tests and there was a 20 page paper due on the last day of class. She immediately recalled a paper she had written for an Advanced Religion class her junior year that had traced inconsistencies in the history of the Catholic Church and possible solutions to what had happened to the chalice from The Last Supper. It had piqued the interest of her friend Dan who had asked if he could use some of her ideas in a short story he had written and hoped to expand into a novel. Her mind promptly realized that with just a little tweaking she could resubmit the same paper. With enough changes, it couldn't really be considered cheating and she could still keep her job for the summer. That wouldn't be bad-it would be nice to have some extra cash in her pocket in the fall. Her scholarship covered tuition and books, but she might be able to rent a studio apartment if she saved her money."

"Intro to Archeology, here I come," she said without enthusiasm.

"Cheer up," replied Sayers. "You still get to attend graduation and I will personally deliver your diploma to you the day after grades are processed. This won't mess up your studies at Harvard-I have a close friend in the Physics department…and just our good fortune, his wife works in the Registrar's office. Plus, I think you can do some tutoring this summer if you like."

Sara smiled. "I really do appreciate everything you've done for me these last four years. You helped me find my way from an undecided major to the field of physics. I know I wouldn't have even had the chance of going to Harvard if it wasn't for you. I know this whole science class goof isn't your fault. I should've double checked my requirements when I signed up this last semester. You've been a good friend and a great teacher"

Sayers felt his face reddening at the compliment, "It's been a joy having you around. You made an old man delight in teaching someone again. I know Myra is going to miss you at the restaurant and the kids will miss their, 'Auntie Sara' helping them with their homework," he said.

He knew his wife and kids would miss her terribly. She had become part of his family, even though he knew very little about her "real family." He still had five long years before he could consider retiring and was already feeling depressed that he wouldn't have her to challenge him in four months. Sara's exuberance had been contagious and she had reminded him why he loved physics and why he loved teaching.

Sara gave the man an unexpected hug. "I am not out of your hair for a few more months," she said. She sighed again deeply and with a hint of melodrama. "Archeology…do you hear the same John Williams soundtrack in your head that I do whenever that is said out loud?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

June 1991

A very hung over Sara ran down the hallway. She was already 15 minutes late for the first day of her summer class. Graduation had been Saturday and she had spent the weekend going from party to party. She had stumbled back to her apartment just four hours earlier and the alarm clock had not been set correctly. She had gone from a sound sleep to out the door in under ten minutes. Ruefully, she knew it was faster to walk/sprint the six blocks to the campus than it was to drive her car. She reached her classroom and had the goal of slipping in silently and unobtrusively. That plan was quickly thrown out the window when the door slammed shut behind her and everyone in the class turned to look at her. She flashed to the typical nightmare everyone had at least once in their life and was relieved when she looked down that she was wearing clothes.

Sara's weekend had been marred by a phone call Thursday morning from the Registrar's office. Professor King had a sudden heart attack and wouldn't be able to teach his Archeology class that summer. None of the TAs had wanted to teach the class, so there had been no choice but to cancel the summer semester. The school was obviously going to give her a full refund and wanted to verify her address. She had hurriedly asked if there was still room in the Entomology class and had made a quick trip to the campus to exchange her books and sign up for a class she was absolutely dreading. The new textbooks had cost $150.00 more than the ones for Archeology and Sara was convinced the fuck-up fairy was targeting her.

"Thank you for joining us Miss…" the professor said.

"Sidle…Sara Sidle," she answered.

The professor studiously scanned what Sara assumed to be a class roster and marked her name. "Well, Miss Sidle, we are all so glad you could make it," he said smoothly.

Sara climbed to the back row. "God, what a fucking asshole," she muttered as she sat down. A couple of students tittered at her comment. When she looked up the professor's eyes had narrowed and he was glaring at her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that last statement, Miss Sidle," he said flintily.

Sara knew he couldn't have heard her and she stalled as she grabbed her notebook and a pen from her hastily packed backpack. "I said, this book bag is a real hassle," she claimed in a moment of inspiration.

The professor (what was his name again?) gave her a long penetrating look before turning away and passing a syllabus and form from the front of the room to her. He resumed his lecture and Sara discovered his was on page 2 of the 5 page syllabus. She groaned to herself as she skimmed the syllabus. Not only were there scheduled tests and quizzes but they could expect pop quizzes as well. Instead of a term paper, they had to do a group project. Sara didn't like to work with others as she found out 1 person usually did all the work, while the rest just rode on their coattails. She was usually the one unofficially elected to be the worker bee. She grinned at her inadvertent pun.

Grissom, PhD in Entomology. Been employed with the LA County Coroner for 17 years. She focused on the form he had handed out to all the students. Name, mailing address, phone number, advisor name, major, expected graduation date. It was a standard form and she filled it out quickly and told herself she would give it to him at the end of the class when she had cooled down enough to work out an apology as well.

That task completed, she actually glanced up and got her first good look at her warden for the next eight weeks. Curly, sandy brown hair. Nice tan. His dark blue polo shirt highlighted his muscular arms and Sara suspected he had a chiseled chest as well. In her mind she categorized him as a grown-up surfer dude…with an affinity for bugs.

By the end of the hour she knew that his affinity bordered on obsession. No doubt about it, Gilbert Grissom was definitely 100 times more excited about his topic than the students he was lecturing. He had brought living samples of the Madagascar Giant Hissing Cockroaches also known as _Gromphadorhina portentosa_ to the first class. He was unabashedly proud of the fact that he had bred these three creatures in captivity and they were named Mickey, Minnie and Daisy. Several of the other female students visibly shivered when it was their turn to examine the glass jar containing them.

He dismissed the class and Sara cautiously made her way to the podium. She set her form down on top of the rest of the others. The professor had turned his back on her and was erasing the blackboard. While he wasn't looking, Sara slid her form in the middle of the pile, hoping he wouldn't remember her name. Anonymity was not a lost cause with 50 other students in the room.

"Dr. Grissom, I want to apologize for being late today," she said.

Without turning around he said, "William Hazlitt said that 'first impressions are often the truest' Miss Sidle. What do you think my first impression of you is today?"

Damnit, he had remembered her name. "Well, once again, I'd like to apologize and I promise it won't happen again," she said calmly.

He turned to face her and she saw that his eyes were a deep, obsidian blue and they seemed to look right through her. She resisted the urge to look away or shuffle her feet under his stare.

"Just so you know, this 'fucking asshole' would appreciate it if you could find a way to come to class both on time and sober," he said.

"I'm not…" she started to say.

He cut her off. "How about you don't try and deny the comment or your current state. I could smell the alcohol when you first came into the room. Anxiety and physical exertion are both causes of perspiration. It practically oozes out of your pores. The evidence doesn't lie"

"You know, just because you work with stiffs ten months out of the year, doesn't mean you have to be one," Sara shot back.

He picked up his briefcase, gave her one more look and said, "And a good day to you as well, Miss Sidle."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

By the time Sara returned to her apartment she had calmed down considerably. She knew she'd been in the wrong, she had been late and she was probably still a little buzzed. Normally, people just didn't get under her skin that fast or she didn't react if they did. She wondered to herself what it was about Gilbert Grissom, PhD that had rankled her so much. She sighed and knew it wasn't the man's fault she was forced to take his class. She was just in a lousy mood and had a chip on her shoulder. "Face it, Sidle…you're feeling sorry for yourself and that is getting you nowhere," she said to herself.

She dropped her bag and grabbed a glass of orange juice and a muffin. Settling on the couch she lit a much needed cigarette and perused her mail. She led a simple life and was able to pay her bills on time, so mail was not a terrifying event for her. She worked hard at her job as a waitress and on a good night she could make $200 in tips alone. That figure could easily double if she put in a few hours bartending on a Friday or Saturday night. Cyma had the best Greek food in the entire county and the bar upstairs was a hopping place with an eclectic crowd of college students, partially reformed hippies and high society people.

She turned on the television for some background noise and settled on CNN. After finishing her cigarette and muffin she browsed through the promotional flyers and skimmed through an informative letter from Harvard (thank God, there was not another form or survey to fill out and return). She was still waiting to find out where she would be living in August, but no word on the dorms or on a couple of leads she had for apartments. Then, one letter on the bottom of the pile jumped to her attention, it had a postmark from the Philippines and many colorful stamps. Sara looked at the return address and opened it with excitement.

Dear Sara,

We wanted to let you know we are so proud of you. Congratulations on your graduation and acceptance to Harvard. Please know that we would welcome a visit from you, just say the word and we will have a ticket delivered. This is a beautiful country with wonderful people. We miss you and think of you everyday.

Remember, little Dreamer, the best is yet to come. Happiness comes from within.

Love Always,

Marti and Andy

Her Godparents. The two people who had saved her from a life worse than hell. Sara winced at the little dreamer comment. Her mouth dropped open in shock as she reached for a piece of paper that had fallen out of the envelope. It was a check for $2500. She had never had that much money at once in her whole life. Her eyes scanned her apartment as she immediately went through a checklist of how she could spend it. She ruled out a new television and with regret eliminated a shopping spree for a new wardrobe. Who was she kidding? She knew she would be responsible with the money. She would probably put it in the bank and save it for expenses in Massachusetts until she secured a job. One more sweep of the room and her eyes stopped at her large third-hand desk. A ghost of a smile crossed her face and she knew how she would be spending a large portion of her graduation present.

She had lived in this apartment for three years. It was the first place she could call her very own and while it was just a studio apartment she had made it a sanctuary. The summer between her freshman and sophomore year she had decided to move out of the dorms. Two of her friends who were Art Majors had oohed and aahed over the use of space and light. Sara had been more impressed with the large closet and luxurious bathroom with a skylight. Her friends had been horrified when she told them she was planning to paint the entire place a bright canary yellow. They had promptly kicked her out for three days. By then Myra and Dr. Sayers had unofficially adopted her, so she had a place to stay. Myra had taken her to every used furniture store in the Bay area. She had insisted Sara buy a new mattress and box springs commenting on the unknown history of the product in question when buying used. The housewarming present they had given her was two sets of the softest sheets Sara had ever felt against her skin.

Sara had been stunned when Dr. Sayers and Myra had brought her back to the studio for its grand unveiling. Her two friends had of course known a couple of interior design majors, who had known a couple of carpenters who had known other people, and even her lab partners had been recruited-mainly for their knowledge and not their decorating ability. Her worry that her first place would be turned into some type of retro, psychedelic 60's hangout with lava lamps had been unfounded. One wall had a huge periodic table painted on it. The futon couch had a new, bold patterned red, white and black slipcover that was a complement to the periodic table. The end tables and coffee table had been painted red. Watercolors of Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawking and a few other notable scientists hung on the walls. A shelf about seven feet from the floor ran around the entire living room area and antique beakers and bottles were displayed. A few well-placed plants and candles completed the area. It was perfect.

Her bedroom still had the predominant color of red, but it was muted with some tasteful oranges and yellows. It reminded Sara of watching the sunset while sitting on the beach. One of the carpenters had built an ingenious sliding door of sorts and the bedroom area could be closed off to visitors. The carpenters had thoroughly enjoyed the chance to make the most of the space available to them and Sara delighted in the extras. Unbeknownst to her, they had returned her box spring and used the money to buy more lumber to build a platform for the bed and she had six drawers underneath her mattress. The pictures in her bedroom were of her and her friends. One amazing collage had almost twenty pictures in it and showed the entire process of the before and after project that had been her apartment. The tears flowed freely and she tried to express her appreciation, but words failed her. The collage was one of her favorite possessions because it showed her friends working together and playing together. They had been nailing it to the wall when Sara was coming up the steps. None of them would take any money for their work, although several had documented their work for their portfolios.

Later as the working crew, Myra, Dr. Sayers and Sara sat around eating pizza and drinking beer she flashed back on the events that brought her to Berkeley and introduced her to these people. She knew everyday of her life how lucky she had been. Basking in the warmth of friends, a full stomach and a healthy buzz just solidified her thinking. She couldn't help but giggle as a slightly tipsy Dr. Sayers began to try and recite Shakespearean sonnets to his wife. He would get through the first couple of stanzas and then lose his place and begin again. Each time he raised his voice a notch louder hoping the sheer volume would cover up his memory loss. Myra had eventually told him it was time for the 'old folks' to leave. When Sara's friends finally stumbled out to their respective homes, she snuggled in her bed and smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

April 1983

Moonbeam Dreamer was an unhappy teenager. It wasn't bad enough that she was a foster child and had been in eight foster homes in six years. She had already had a dozen social workers and couldn't even remember the name of her current one. What did it matter-he would burn out in a few months anyway. The only thing she knew was the he had told her the same thing the other ones had. She would have to wait until she was legally an adult to change her name. She scowled and reminded herself that she should be somewhat thankful her parents hadn't been able to agree on a middle name. In one of the homes another foster child had looked at her sympathetically and said, "Kid, I thought I had it bad to be named Ashbury Song Weaver, but my life looks pretty good, now."

Needless to say, Moonbeam kept a low profile and was surprised when she was pulled out of literature class by the guidance counselor. She was an outstanding student, but was known to sit in the back of the room and never volunteer unless she was directly asked a question. She didn't have any friends and the only extra-curricular activity she participated in was the Astronomy Club. Her teachers described her as bright, but more sullen than depressed. She was looking forward to high school just because she was convinced in a large school she would be an anonymous face in the crowd. But right now, she wasn't sure what she could have done to warrant a trip to the guidance counselor's office.

So, she was surprised to see her foster mother and a strange man and woman in the office when she arrived. The guidance counselor motioned her to an empty seat next to her foster mother. The couple was staring at her intently, but she didn't think there was any malice in their eyes. Moonbeam was on edge-the unknown always did that to her and she forced herself to appear nonchalant even though inside she was working herself into a panic.

"Moonbeam," began the counselor. "These are your Godparents, Martha and Andrew Barton. They have been overseas with the Peace Corps for ten years."

This confused her. Her parents hadn't left a will and she wasn't aware of ever meeting these two people. Godparents were people who took care of kids who had lost their parents, right? She was pretty fuzzy on the details.

"I don't understand," she said weakly.

"I'm Andy," the man said unnecessarily (she didn't think he was Martha). "Your parents had you baptized in the Roman Catholic Church and Marti and I were your Godparents. This is our first trip home in eight years. It took us a while to find you since your parents changed addresses often."

Her foster mother showed some signs of being frazzled and while Moonbeam knew she wasn't a bad woman, she was probably calculating how much her monthly check would be decreased when another child was removed from her house.

"There is still some question if the courts will honor the claim legally," she huffed. "But Mr. and Mrs. Barton would like you to spend the weekend with them. I packed a bag for you and made arrangements for you to have an excused absence for the rest of today and all of tomorrow."

She was processing all of this far too slowly. Somebody actually wanted to spend three whole days with her? She nodded and stood up as did Marti and Andy.

"We'll have her back before supper on Sunday," said Marti softly. Moonbeam noticed she didn't say 'we'll have her **home** before supper' and she wondered if Marti somehow knew the importance of the distinction.

Marti and Andy chatted with her on the drive to her weekend getaway. "We'll be staying with Andy's family on the beach. My family all moved to Florida years ago, but his family is almost like a second one to me," said Marti.

From the backseat she could see that Andy's hair was braided and from the lump in his shirt his hair must be almost to the middle of his back. It seemed incongruous with his dark blue suit and patterned necktie.

"How did you know my parents? I don't remember seeing you when I was growing up," asked Moonbeam.

A blush started to climb from Andy's neck until his ears were an uncomfortable shade of red. He cleared his throat, "I was…uh….Rainbow Chaser and Marti took the name Lilac Dreamer."

"I'm very sorry, dear, but I think you are named after me," said Marti with a tinge of red on her cheeks as well.

She had a dim memory of an aunt and uncle. "Uncle Bo-bo and Aunt Lila?"

"That's us!" they both chorused.

That night she met Andy's mother, father and his two brothers. Patrick was a lawyer and the other brother was a smiling man with bushy hair. The family teased him so much about wearing real clothes that she had finally timidly asked him if his job didn't require clothing. The family laughed hysterically at that and when James caught his breath he explained.

"I am a Cardinal in the Catholic Church," he said. "When they told me there was going to be a beautiful young lady joining us for the weekend, I thought I would dress to impress rather than intimidate."

She blushed. No one had ever called her beautiful or a young lady before that night. She actually thought her nose was too big and that she was very plain compared to the other girls.

Later as she lay in bed with the window open, she could hear snatches of the conversation from the deck below her room where the adults had gathered. "Legalities…family court…social services…decisions…Africa…Moonbeam. She drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning after breakfast Marti and Andy took her for a walk on the ocean. After a mile or so they stopped and sat down in the sand and watched the waves crash onto the shore.

Andy took a deep breath and began "Moonbeam," he said. She winced visibly at the name and he nodded sympathetically. "We both want you to know that you have essentially four choices. One-you can stay where you are. Two-you can come with us-our next posting is going to be in Africa. Three-my mother and father would love to have you live with them. Four-there are some fantastic private schools that you might like. Your guidance counselor said you have a strong aptitude for math and science and there are schools that would foster that."

She pondered what he had said silently.

"We want…" began Marti.

"Sweetheart, it isn't about what we want," Andy interrupted gently.

Marti looked away and began again, "It's important for you to know that there aren't any wrong choices and nobody will be disappointed no matter what you decide," she said. "We think you are old enough to have the principle say-so in what happens next. This doesn't have to be figured out this very minute. We leave for Africa in two weeks, but Patrick is going to petition to be appointed your guardian ad litem. That means he will do what is in your best interest and he will respect your wishes."

Her voice wavered as she looked at the two earnest adults and spoke, "Could I change my name **now** rather than having to wait four more years?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Wednesday morning Sara arrived at the classroom 30 minutes before class. She broke the unwritten rule of college students and changed her seat. Very few teachers ever used a seating chart since they rarely had the opportunity to get to know many of their students in a class of 500 or more. She hadn't been a back row type of person in eight years and she had a feeling that with the examples of living specimens Dr. Grissom had displayed on Monday, several people would be switching to safer territory.

She chose a seat in the center of the front row and flipped through the first two chapters of the text. She had already read them twice, once thoroughly to highlight and once to take notes. Now she began making flashcards of the largely new terminology to her from chapter two. Chapter one had been a breeze since it focused on the Scientific Method and she had lived and breathed that for so long she could write up experiments in her sleep. She was pleased to see their first lab tomorrow focused on the scientific method. At least a couple of things were going her way in this introductory course.

10 minutes into her prep work, Dr. Grissom entered the classroom. He didn't acknowledge her presence as he tossed an empty cup of coffee into the garbage can and set down a box on the table next to the podium. He then began to write the outline for the day's notes on the blackboard. Sara thought about speaking and decided against it. Overt silence was far better than overt hostility. Today he was wearing a green polo and a pair of baggy Dockers. After watching him walk around for a few minutes Sara was able to detect he was slightly bowlegged. She now mentally referred to him as the grown-up-surfer-cowboy-dude.

Soon other students began to straggle into the classroom and Sara noticed many of the women were changing seats. She hid a grin, but couldn't blame them. Who knows what the man was carrying in that box. A cacophony of quiet chatter began as the students talked amongst themselves. Soon she felt a friendly poke in her back and she turned around to face a grinning African American man with dreadlocks and a baby face. She was trying to place him and gave him a puzzled look.

"Kendall…we had a Biology class together a couples semesters ago," he reminded her.

"Hey, there! I remember now," she replied and returned his smile. Biology wasn't her favorite subject but she still managed to get an A and an invitation from the professor to take a special honors Advanced Biology course.

He leaned forward and whispered. "Daaammnnn, Girl," he drawled with emphasis. "You sure do know how to make an entrance! I'm surprised you made it at all-I heard you hit every party in a five mile radius this last weekend."

Sara rolled her eyes at Kendall, then motioned with her head to the figure at the blackboard and put her finger to her lips. Dr. Elephant Ears could probably hear him. She shook her head at Kendall. He got the picture and settled back in his seat.

"So tell me, you scarlet woman-would you humble yourself to be lab partners with a lowly Bio major?" Kendall teased and flashed another brilliant grin.

Sara snorted and said, "I do believe I could accommodate you in that area. Both of us may be out of our element since I doubt we will be dissecting any specimens." She was certain she saw the professor tense up at the blackboard and knew he was eavesdropping on the hum of conversation in the room. Any talk of cutting open his precious bugs would probably give him an apoplectic attack of some kind.

After a moment where she processed everything Kendall had said, she turned around in her chair and smacked him hard in the knee. "That would be 'crimson woman' you smart-ass," she said.

Dr. Grissom cleared his throat and the students recognized the subtle action to get their attention. "Before we begin today, are there any questions on what you have read so far?" He was greeted with silence which wasn't all that unexpected. "No questions? Good. Please clear your desks except for a single sheet of paper and number it 1-10. An audible groan filled the classroom and he immediately looked at Sara who was maintaining a poker face. She met his gaze straight on, but she was thinking, "What kind of sadist gives a pop quiz on the second day of class?" She felt a twinge and wondered if she had somehow brought this on the class by her interaction with him.

Of course, the quiz was easy enough. Five questions on the scientific method and five questions on the history and terminology of entomology. She even aced the three extra credit questions. What is the scientific name for the Madagascar Giant Hissing Cockroach? Name three facts about the hissing cockroach. List one thing you know about entomology not in the textbook. She grudgingly admitted that the quiz wasn't unreasonable; he just wanted to make certain people were reading the assignment and listening in the classroom.

It was with a clearer head that Sara watched and listened as Grissom lectured for the next hour. She found herself mellowing in her original assumptions regarding the man. True scientists were frequently a passionate group and was it really that strange his specialty was bugs? Often in the last four years Sara had seen the eyes of her friends glaze over when she would start talking about her latest Physics assignment. You either got it or you didn't.

He involved the class in his lecture, which was a rare occurrence for most of the students. He would throw questions out and when nobody answered, he would consult the class roster and call on someone at random. Even she could recognize that the first of his questions required more opinion than fact in the answers. He smiled slightly at the students whose answers were not quite on target and engaged them in a genial conversation until they were inadvertently steered to the right idea. For someone who did work with dead people, he really did have an amazing insight into the behaviors of the average college student. He never addressed the box on the table, but Sara had a feeling the contents would be shown to them at a later date.

Sara was not the first one out the door at the end of the class, but after seeing a dozen students gather around him and realizing she didn't have anything new to say to him she headed for the door. She almost felt sorry for him to be surrounded by the eager young men and women. "Whichever way he swings, he won't have a problem finding someone to keep him company for the next two months," she thought.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: No new chapters until Tuesday, February 20th. Have a good weekend!

Chapter Six

The rest of the week was uneventful and Sara spent most of the weekend working. It was wonderful to sleep in late Saturday and Sunday morning. Monday she had to drag herself out of bed, but she didn't have a hangover this time. She wasn't going to give him anymore ammunition and had resisted the urge to stay and have a few drinks after work.

They were falling into a routine of sorts. She would arrive first and usually within 10-15 minutes he would enter the classroom and studiously avoid her while preparing for the lecture (or the lab as had been the case on Thursday). On Monday morning when he came in, he actually looked at her and nodded. She returned the gesture and resumed her studying. There was a scheduled quiz today. He interrupted her after finishing his work on the blackboard to hand back her pop quiz and lab assignment. She was not surprised that she had scored a 13/10 and a 10/10, respectively. He returned to the papers to the rest of her classmates as they entered.

Precisely at 900 AM, he cleared his throat, "People, we have a lot to accomplish in the next hour. We'll be taking the quiz today, but not discussing it until Wednesday."

In 45 minutes they took the quiz, discussed the lab assignment and he lectured through one chapter in the text. Sara thought he seemed a little hyperactive. With just 15 minutes left he informed the class, "I need to get the…visual aids for the remaining segment. Please wait here."

He returned carrying two Styrofoam containers and Sara resisted the urge to relocate to the back of the room.

"For the remainder of the class we will be discussing entomophagy." A few students gasped while most of the class looked confused. "This is not covered in your textbook, but is something you can be tested on at a later date," he continued.

Sara was not one of the confused ones and knew precisely what was next. "Entomophagy is the process of eating bugs." A low murmur rushed through the room as everyone let their imaginations assume what was in the containers.

He held up his hand to silence them. "This is not a new concept and there are records of ancient cave drawings depicting early man eating bugs as that is what was available. This is not just something that happens in foreign countries. There are numerous cookbooks available and there are gourmet chefs who experiment with different recipes. In San Francisco there is an organization called the Bay Area Bug Eating Society with a strong membership."

A brave student hollered out, "Let me guess, you're a card-carrying member?"

He actually laughed, "I am a charter member, and not just a card-carrying member and we had a get-together this weekend."

By now even the slowest person in the classroom was staring either at him or the containers dubiously. All of them knew what was coming and if they were like Sara, they were wishing they had skipped class today.

"All of you have probably eaten many pounds of insects in your lifetime. Most of you don't realize that you are eating a pound or two every year," he paused momentarily. "This is because insects are part of all processed foods from bread to tomato ketchup. It is just impossible to keep mass-produced food 100 percent insect free."

He had their undivided, if horrified attention. "Foods that you can expect to have bits of insects in them are strawberry jams, peanut butter, spaghetti sauce, applesauce and frozen chopped broccoli. That is by no means a complete list," he concluded.

One brave student raised her hand, "But Dr. Grissom, doesn't the Food and Drug Administration have rules against that?"

"Yes, they do," replied Grissom. "The Food Defect Action Levels in macaroni and noodle products can have 225 insect parts per 225 grams of product."

Grissom walked over to the containers and opened them and began removing plastic containers with lids. "I know this has to sound disgusting to many of you, but insects can actually make food more nutritious. The protein content in a wasp is 80." He finished setting up the containers.

The class was silent.

"Well," he said, "Who's first?"

Nobody moved.

"I will add one point onto your final numerical score at the end of the term," he tried.

Nobody moved-bribery was not working.

"I know this class is split between science majors and other majors," he said. "For those of you in a science major, you have to use more than your brain to gather empirical evidence, you must use your five senses as well."

Nobody moved-shame was ineffective.

He sighed dramatically. "Fine, I will give one point to your final grade for each item you try-maximum five points."

There was some shuffling but no one took the bait.

Sara stood and moved to the table. She glanced over the displays and pointed to something, "I am willing to try, but I want to know what I am eating. What is that?" she asked.

"Those are mushrooms stuffed with snails," he replied. "The Bay area's brown-and-yellow-striped garden snails are essentially the same mollusks as the prize escargot of French cuisine."

She stared at him and whispered so only he could hear, "Who are you? Rain Man?" she hissed.

His lips twitched as he leaned in, turning his back so the class couldn't see him. "What are you, Miss Sidle? Chicken?" he whispered in return.

Her baleful look showed she was not intimidated.

He turned back to the class, "other than the mushrooms, there is mealworm chocolate chip cookies, banana cicada bread, chocolate covered crickets, ants and roaches, roasted termite eggs, chipotle mescal salsa with locusts…" he trailed off as the class gasped as a single unit. Turning back to Sara he saw her chewing and turning an unnatural shade of green.

After she swallowed, her color returned to a more normal shade. "Kendall, you have to try these, they really aren't bad," she said.

"Girl, it's against my religion to eat pork, you don't think for one minute I am going to go anywhere near that table, do you?" Kendall responded and the class laughed.

"I saved my personal favorites for last," said Grissom. Inwardly Sara shuddered. "Oatmeal bee cookies, bee grubs in coconut cream and cheese dip with grasshoppers."

Sara did sample five of the items, but not six. After she was finished he handed her a bottle of water which she accepted gratefully. Slowly some more students came to the front of the room and began asking questions.

"A diet of worms can cure bowel disease," said Grissom as he pointed to the chocolate chip cookies. Sara choked as a sip of water went down the wrong tube. As she caught her breath she was thinking, 'of course it would.'


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Gil Grissom returned to his suite of rooms on campus with a satisfied smirk on his face. He usually tried to do his entomophagy lecture on the second or third day of class, but this semester he wasn't able to get all the food prepared until the start of the second week. Before his class on Wednesday he would go to the Registrar's office to see how many students had dropped the class this time. Last year he had lost 8 students after food day, but this year he had a bigger class because of another science class being cancelled at the last minute. Some teachers used a scary syllabus to weed out the students who were just there to skate through an easy summer class; Gil used a scary syllabus and gourmet bugs. He did have a creative side to him, after all. Surprisingly, at least half the class had eventually tried something. Even the guy named Kendall had tried a cookie after prodding from his classmates. Unlike last year, this year Gil had remembered to keep the barf bags handy, so he was prepared when Kendall started retching.

He sighed as he looked at the disaster area that was his space for seven more weeks. When he had arrived at Berkley on Sunday afternoon, he had not been met with the best of news. The maintenance crew was painting the offices in the science building and he wouldn't be able to have any office space for two weeks. It didn't bother him that he wasn't able to hold office hours, most of the time the students that came to him early in the term really weren't looking help with the subject material, they were looking for a "couch-earned A" in his class. It might have flattered his male ego if they weren't so clumsy in their attempt to be coy or their assumption that he would be open to that type of…sliding grading scale. He knew enough not to consider having office hours in his living room. No need for them to read anything more into the situation and think he was inviting the unwanted advances.

No, what bothered him the most was the mess in his home-no matter how temporary. He was used to being able to store the dozen or so boxes filled with various visual aids and samples in an office rather than in the small living room. That had put him in a cranky mood Sunday night as he unloaded his minivan. Tripping over the boxes the next morning had bruised his elbow, his pride and reminded him how much he hated clutter. It was probably the reason he had goaded the student who arrived late to his class on Monday. He knew from the start she hadn't meant to slam the door, but the smell of stale beer emanating from her direction and reading her lips as she said the "fucking asshole" comment had caused him to snap. Obviously, the little princess had flunked Intro to Biology or some other rudimentary required science class and she was taking this one just to meet the basics for her Underwater Basket-Weaving Degree. He would bet 50 dollars she had originally signed up for Archeology.

Then, Little-Miss-Homecoming-Queen had tried to apologize. He hadn't been in the mood as she tossed her hair back and tried to look suitably sorrowful. Her comment about being a stiff had bothered him more than he let her know. Why would he give her the satisfaction? She probably hadn't worked a day in her life or had her hands dirty at any time. What would she know about speaking for those who couldn't? He had wanted to retort back to her statement with, "Do you actually eat with that filthy mouth, Miss Sidle?" But, he had taken the high road. He had taught long enough to know that it was tough for a teacher at any level to fight the inevitable whine of a student complaining to administrators, "He doesn't **like** me" as their primary defense for a bad grade.

He was sure she was cheating. He couldn't prove it yet, but today he had watched her closely during the quiz. She had partnered with Kendall in the lab assignment, who knew her from a previous biology class (probably that one she flunked) and he must have carried her somehow or she diligently copied his write-up on the experiment. That example he couldn't do anything about since everyone worked with partners. Eventually the teams would figure out they could just do one write-up and put both their names on it rather than turn in individual work. But the pop quiz she had aced-including the extra credit questions. He rifled through his briefcase and removed the quizzes from today's class. It had been a harder quiz since it was known beforehand and the class would have had all weekend to prepare. He reached for his glasses, which he still felt he was too young for at age 35 and pulled her quiz from the pile. He raised his eyebrows…another perfect score. He was certain she didn't have a crib sheet or answers written on her body. She hadn't rifled through her purse in search of a tissue (or any other object) during the quiz. No coughing or hand signals to anyone and she kept her eyes on her own paper. Maybe she was writing on her desk before he arrived at the classroom.

He shuffled through the Student Info cards and removed hers and read it again.

**Name**: Sara Sidle

**Phone:** 555-1412

**Address:** 221 Louis Street

**Grade:** N/A

**Major:** N/A

**Expected Graduation Date:** N/A

**Advisor:** N/A

Well, the ditz knew her name, phone number and address. At least if she was ever lost, she had a chance of finding her way home. Gil already had the following notes on her card: 5'9, cauc, F, late Day 1. 1st on Food Day. Next to that he wrote CHEATER??? Then he found Kendall Wright's card and wrote: 6'0, Blk, dreds, relig Xpork, regurg on food day. He had started making these notes from his very first class years ago. He only had eight weeks to get to know these 50 plus students and he found that if he wrote his notes immediately after class and read them immediately before class he was able to put names with faces much quicker.

Now, who was the smart-ass who made the card-carrying member comment? Mentally Gil went through the list of names of the students. Oh, that's right, Engvall, William Ray. 6'0, cauc, light brown hair, south. accent.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Wednesday morning when Gil entered the classroom, she was in her usual seat in the front row. He had noticed she had changed seats and it messed with his cheating theory. If she was cheating, it would have made more sense for her to stay in the back row where he couldn't see subtle movements or a crib sheet of any kind.

As he set his briefcase on the table, he noticed there was a cup of coffee from Starbucks and a muffin. He cleared his throat and she looked up from the text.

"Oh, I figured since you fed me breakfast on Monday, I would return the favor," she smiled at him brightly. "I hope you like my cooking better than I liked yours."

Gil grinned, but inside he was wondering if she was somehow trying to poison him. He nonchalantly pulled out the chair and sat down. He began to tear the muffin into bite-sized pieces and popping them in his mouth, surreptitiously looking for any remnants of ex-lax. That had been the method of choice around the fraternity house when he was in school.

"You made the muffin? This is very good," he said politely.

"Apple-cinnamon muffins are my favorite," she replied. "I did make the muffins, but the coffee I grabbed from a store on the corner. I wasn't sure how you took your coffee, so I got some cream and sugar."

Normally Gil drank his coffee black, but today he made an exception. He opened the cup and swished the liquid around looking for anything out of place before adding one cream and one sugar just for show. In his own mind he wondered if his suspicions were crossing the line into paranoia. There had been a moment on Monday when she had teased him and he had been able to see that there wasn't any rancor in it. Possibly she was just being nice.

He stood and cleaned up the leftover crumbs and dumped everything but the coffee in the garbage can. "You really didn't have to do that Miss Sidle, but thank you very much. That definitely hit the spot," he said.

She smiled at him again and this time he noticed she had a gap between her two front teeth. "You're very welcome," she said.

Near the end of class he made an announcement and played a trump card, "For tomorrow's lab experiment, I want you to choose a different partner than whom you had last week." Maybe her friend Kendall would be willing to do her work for her, but how many others would? He ignored the groans from his class and dismissed them.

Thursday morning he was running a few minutes late. Well, really it was just late for him. He still made it to the lab three minutes before class was scheduled to start, so there was no danger of students assuming he was not going to be there and leaving. When he walked into the room he expected to see the students sitting in pairs at the 30 tables in the lab. That was not what had happened. As he entered, the entire class was in a huddle in the middle of the room. "Shit, he's here," he heard a voice say. Part of the group took seats but many students were still milling around.

"I'm not sure what's going on," he said sharply. "But you are all too old to think a Chinese fire drill would be amusing to me. Take your seats, people-now." They did so and none of them looked guilty even after he took a moment to glare slowly at the room.

The lab progressed as normal and he walked around the room making himself available for questions or comments. It surprised him that there were very few problems. Usually someone struggled with the practical applications. Within 30 minutes, there were only a few tables left working. As the last pair turned in their pages, he spoke to the young man. "Mr. Engvall, could you help me with something before you leave?"

After his lab partner had left the room, Gil looked at him and said, "What was going on when I came in the classroom?"

Mr. Engvall looked uncomfortable and was avoiding looking him in the eye. "It wasn't anything bad," he said.

"Well, the only thing I can consider is that someone was passing out answers from last year's lab assignments and that the experiments are just being done as a ruse. It would be considered cheating if all of you had the same answers. That is an automatic F for the course and I do believe the college suspends you."

Engvall paled slightly, "Dr. Grissom, sir, it isn't anything like that."

"Then just tell me," replied Grissom.

"Dr. Grissom, it's a real bad sign when you choose the Southern boy to be the rat," he answered glumly.

"Mr. Engvall, here's your sign, talk to me or talk to the Dean. What's it going to be?"

He sighed, "Well, sir…there are 56 students in this class."

"Go on," said Gil.

"And, it is pretty evenly split. 30 kids have science majors and 26 have other majors," he continued.

"A dim light was dawning in Gil's mind. "Okay, I can follow that," he said.

"You hadn't mentioned grading on the curve or anything, but if we were going to have to change partners every week, it just made sense that everyone would have a fair shot," said Engvall. "So the 26 kids who weren't science majors sat down first and then someone who was a science major sat with them."

"Whose idea was it?" asked Grissom.

Engvall pondered that a moment. "Well, the truth is, it was kind of a consensus thing more than a one-person plan," he said. There was a long pause as Gil considered everything he had said.

"You're absolutely right, Mr. Engvall, that isn't cheating. You can go now," he finished.

Engvall was almost to the door when Grissom stopped him again.

"Oh, and Mr. Engvall-thanks for helping me clean the microscopes," he told the young man.

Engvall smiled and gave him a mock salute as he left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Gil tore through the lab papers and then through the student cards, even though he knew what he would find.

Miss Sidle had been partnered with Douglas Ross, Pre-med.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Friday morning he was intentionally a couple of minutes late. After taking roll, he told them that he would need to leave a few minutes early. He lectured as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened the day before. Truth be told, he should have thought about making the pairing selection suggestion to the class and then they wouldn't have been forced to think they were conspiring to commit a felony of some sort. It made sense, but he had been so caught up trying to gather proof that one student was cheating, it had blinded him to other possibilities.

That night he picked his mother up at the airport. They had a close rapport and after many hugs they walked to his car. Her hands flew as she told him all that was happening at the gallery and how happy she was he would be in L.A. for a few weeks before his new job began. He had hesitated to take the new job and leave her alone in Los Angeles, but Vegas wasn't that far and she wanted him to expand his options. Tonight he was taking his best girl out for a late supper and they were to meet up with the head of the science department and his wife at 900 PM.

They were in their seats at 850 PM and studying the menu when he heard a familiar voice say, "Good Evening, could I get you something to drink before you order?"

He looked up and hid his surprise well. "Miss Sidle?"

"Dr. Grissom…uh….hi, welcome to Cyma," she said.

He looked at his mother and said, "This is Sara Sidle, she's taking my class this summer. Miss Sidle, this is my mother, Olivia Grissom."

Sara noticed his mother's blue eyes twinkled as she shook her hand and said, "It is so nice to meet you-I never get to meet Gil's students." Sara thought she spoke with a slight speech impediment, but was easy enough to understand. She would have known this woman was his mother without the introduction. They both had the same mannerisms and similar look-and those brilliant blue eyes.

"It is nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Grissom. Are you from San Francisco?" asked Sara.

"No, Los Angeles is my home," answered Olivia.

Sara smiled at the older woman, "Well, I do hope you enjoy your visit. Could I get you anything to drink?"

Gil looked at his mother. "House wine?" he asked and she nodded. "Two glasses of the house wine, please. Oh-we are waiting for two other people to join us as well."

"Two glasses of house wine-on the way," replied Sara with faked cheerfulness.

Gil continued his conversation with his mother and a couple of minutes later he noticed she wasn't looking at him.

"What is between you and Miss Sidle?" she signed.

"Nothing," he replied defensively, even though she couldn't hear his tone. She didn't need to; she was an expert on reading the most minute facial expressions.

"Then why is she offering to pay the other waitress 20 dollars to take our table?"

Gil turned around and watched the conversation between the two women.

"He's not going to stiff you, Alice. I promise. 20 dollars, come on," pleaded Sara.

"Honey, you have waited on your teachers 100 times, what is so different about this one?" asked Alice.

"You don't understand on the first day of class, I called him a 'fucking asshole' and he heard me," she said.

Gil's mother made a snort and he turned back to see her laughing hysterically. "Did that really happen?" she signed.

"Yes," replied Gil, "but I didn't hear her say it, I **saw **her say it. It was not….oh, Edward, Myra…good to see you again." He stood up and shook hands with Edward and Myra gave him a kiss on the cheek. He made introductions and after they were seated Sara brought their wine."

"Gil, how is my protégé doing in your class this summer?" boomed Edward.

"Silly man, don't embarrass either of them," joked Myra.

"Your protégé?" Gil asked with a feeling of doom.

"Oh, yes, Sara is the 'Crimson woman' of the Physics department. She is heading to Harvard for graduate school in the fall."

"Really?" said Olivia. "Well, congratulations and a toast." She raised her glass to Sara.

"You bet," continued Edward. "And unless she completely bombs your class, she should be graduating summa cum laude, Gil"

Gil's brain was surely on fire. Physics. Protégé. Harvard. Part of him was sure he needed one of the barf bags. He managed a weak smile and said to the table, "I don't know why I am surprised, she has the highest score in my class so far."

The conversation flowed comfortably through dinner. Gil had met the Sayers' only briefly last year at a faculty party. He had been flattered when they had asked him to dinner and invited his mother along. They obviously had a happy marriage and were proud of their two children. Myra's father had been Greek and he had originally opened the restaurant. Myra had met Edward here and she took over after her parents had both died.

Sara was a conscientious waitress and she was only mentioned again when Gil asked why she was in his class. Edward explained the mistake that had been made and he was treated to the bug-geek or Indiana Jones wanna-be story.

They had just finished the last of their baklava when Edward waved her over to the table. Sara was wearing a light jacket now and had eyes for the door.

"Is your shift done now?" he asked. Sara nodded.

"Well, woman, grab a bottle of ouzo and five glasses and come join us!"

"Edward!" Myra exclaimed. "It is a Friday night, after all. Young people have better things to do than to hang out with us old fogies!"

"Nonsense! One drink is not going to change her life plans, you know," he responded.

Myra laughed. "After four years, she probably knows with you it is never just one drink. Please, Sara, do join us," she said.

Gil almost felt sorry for her. She had the proverbial deer-caught-in-headlights look. She smiled and cleared their plates and said she would be back with the bottle.

When she returned and grabbed a chair she was essentially sitting between Grissom and his mother at the end of the table. Myra raised her glass and they all followed suit. "Stin iya sou, health to you," she said. They all responded with a resounding "Opa!"

Myra asked Sara how she was enjoying her new computer and this started a spirited conversation. Gil and Olivia both loved the instant message feature on AOL. Olivia was thrilled to be connecting with old friends and had a web site for her Art Gallery.

"I just think the Internet is going to expand into something that opens many doors for people who are hearing impaired," said Olivia.

Gil watched out of the corner of his eye as Sara processed what his mother said and the continuing conversation. She looked back and forth between mother and son and he could almost see the light bulb of comprehension turning on in her mind. Now she knew her mother had seen what she said to Alice and she probably suspected he could read lips as well. She drained her glass, which was still three-fourths full and passed her glass.

"Could I have some more please," she whispered hoarsely to Gil. He emptied his own glass and reached for the bottle to fill both glasses.

"Trust me, Sara," he thought. "No amount of ouzo is going to make this moment any less awkward for either us."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Sunday night Gil took his mother back to the airport. The weekend had been a lot of fun and Gil was sorry to see her leave. He never considered himself a momma's boy, but it had been the two of them for so long, they were best friends as well as mother and son. She had encouraged him since the age of 5 to explore his interest in all living creatures. He could remember her shriek of terror clearly when he had proudly held up a foot-long snake he found in their garden. After she had calmed down, she had made him promise that ALL of his non-human friends would not be brought into the house or put in one of his pockets. Then she had told him he needed to put the snake back where he found it because the mommy and daddy snake would miss him…or her.

As they waited for her plane she was blatantly staring at him. He knew that look and he knew what was expected of him. It would be worse if he avoided the signs and she was forced to start the conversation. In his mind, he steeled himself for the battle.

"What is it, Mom?" he signed.

"You like her," she answered.

"Who?" he asked, stalling for time.

"Sara," was her one word answer.

"Sara," he repeated. He had some degree of optimism that they would call for boarding…NOW.

"Yes, Sara or Miss Sidle as you seem determined to refer to her," she signed.

"Mom, I'm her teacher. I don't like or dislike her. What you're implying is inappropriate," he said.

His mother huffed a sound of exasperation. "You're not ten years old, just because you got off to a bad start doesn't mean you keep pulling her pigtails to get her attention. She is smart, funny and completely charming."

"A bad start? Don't you think that is a bit of an understatement? Besides, this is a moot point, I'm sure the school has policies against students and teachers being too friendly. Plus, I don't need my mother attempting to play matchmaker. Have you ever heard of jailbait?" he said.

"Nice try, but a thirteen year age difference does not make you a child molester. I'll leave you alone about it for now, Gil. But what is your excuse going to be in five or six weeks when class is ending? You can't spend your whole life hiding behind the rules," she said.

"Sometimes talking with you is like conversing with an interactive fortune cookie," Gil grumbled. "They just called your flight." The two of them stood. "I'll see you in L.A. for July 4th weekend. I'm glad you came this weekend."

"Do you know how much I love you?" she teased him and resisted the urge to pinch his cheek just because she could.

"Yes, mom, I love you, too," he replied as he gave her a hug and a kiss.

He stepped back as she went through the line. At the door, she turned and found him in the crowd and made some final signs to him. He shook his head and laughed as she boarded the plane.

"I want grandchildren." Leave it to his mother to have **her** biological clock ticking. As he turned away he immediately focused on the night ahead and the preparations he needed to make for class tomorrow. There was a unit test to finish writing for this Friday, it was time to discuss the group projects and he needed to finish grading the lab work from Thursday. Finally, the thought that wouldn't leave his mind was Sara. How could he have been SO wrong about her? The evidence was supported by his initial analysis. Gil sternly reminded himself that human behavior could not always be tracked through science. Of course she would have to the exception to the rule-that was his luck.

The next day before he dismissed his class, he had one last announcement. "Miss Sidle, could you please stay after class a couple of minutes?"

Kendall poked her in the back and whispered, "What did you do now, troublemaker?"

She shrugged, without turning around but was dreading her next interaction with Dr. Grissom.

Gil handed her a blank student form. "I was wondering if you could fill another one of these out, please." He said, more than asked.

"What happened to the other one?" she asked as she started writing.

"I spilled coffee on it," he lied smoothly. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Miss Sidle." He sat down in the desk next to hers and turned to face her.

"Is that it?" she said as she handed the form to him.

"Yes," he replied. "Well, no, it isn't, Miss Sidle.

She was giving him a questioning look. Gil thought he should have prepared for this conversation more thoroughly.

"Thomas Carlyle said that 'every new opinion, at its starting is precisely in a minority of one' and I see the wisdom in that statement," he said.

"Okay, I'm not sure where you're going with this," said Sara.

"Miss Sidle, my original opinion of you on the first day of class was made in error. With your permission, I'd prefer not to go into details. But I'd like to apologize for the manner in which I spoke to you," he said.

"You didn't actually hear what I said on the first day of class, did you?" she asked.

He winced visibly. "No, no I didn't. I read your lips," he answered.

"And of course, your mother read my lips on Saturday night," she said.

"Yes, she did. I don't blame you for trying to switch table assignments-and my mother got a good laugh out of it. I don't know if I could see the humor in it if I was you," he said.

"I have a personal question for you," said Sara.

Gil prepared for the worst. He truly had no idea what would come out of her mouth. "Please, ask away," he tried to sound encouraging, but the unknown did not instill a lot of confidence in him.

"Are you hearing impaired as well?" she asked.

He chided himself for being so dramatic. "No, but my mother's condition can be hereditary," he said.

"How did you learn to read lips?"

"I was seven years old when my mom started to lose her hearing. Kids learn things at an amazing rate, particularly languages. She never wanted me to lose a way to communicate with her so she had me in sign language classes as soon as the diagnosis was definite," he replied.

She nodded and sensed he wasn't finished talking.

"My lip reading ability is really only about average. From a distance I never know if mom is saying, 'I love you' or 'elephant juice,' he concluded with a laugh.

"Elephant juice?" she repeated.

"Well, yes…watch your lips move around those two statements while looking in the bathroom mirror. They are remarkably similar," he said.

She nodded her head in agreement. "But on the first day of class…" she said.

"You definitely were NOT saying 'elephant juice,' he finished.

She laughed and stood up, "Dr. Grissom, I accept your apology and hope you will accept mine as well."

She held out her hand and Gil could swear something tingled inside him as he shook it and touched her for the first time. This was ridiculous, he was not a romantic and had little or not faith in fate.

She gathered her books and began to walk to the door.

"Miss Sidle?" She turned to him.

"I'd like…would you like…could we…" he hedged miserably. "Are you available for coffee now?"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Coffee morphed into lunch as the two of them talked non-stop. They were at a delicatessen not too far from campus and they each ordered a different sandwich so they could split them with the other. At one point, Sara reached over and took his pickle from his plate. She waved it back and forth in an unasked question. His response was to nod….and help himself to some of her potato chips. It was an easy camaraderie. He was reminded how little playfulness he had in his life and wondered why that was.

Gil enthusiastically told her about his new job he would be starting in Vegas in September. His excitement was contagious and Sara asked him a lot of questions. She hadn't taken any criminal justice classes as her electives and seemed genuinely interested in what a crime scene investigator actually did. He could tell she was embarrassed to admit that she didn't quite know what she was going to do when she finished with school.

"Dr. Sayers doesn't want me to teach and he has been subtly pushing me to go into the research aspect of physics," she said. "I feel like at this point I should have an idea or some type of plan, but I don't."

"If you're interested in lab work, you really should look into forensics," said Gil. "Research is going to require a doctorate as will teaching at a four-year school. Forensics is one of those fields where you can practically write yourself a ticket to almost any department in the country with a Master's from Harvard. I have a couple of books with me I could loan you."

"That would be good. From what little you've been telling me, it does sound like fascinating work," said Sara politely. She took a sip of her coffee. "Are you scared to be changing jobs after being in the same place for 17 years?"

"I'm not trying to be macho, but I don't think I would use the word scared, I do have some trepidations," said Gil. "I have wanted to make a change for a couple of years now. I don't mean to sound egotistical, but I think I have seen almost everything I could possibly see in the coroner's office after all this time. I have gone as far as I can go in the field." He pulled a long face and said softly, "I do know that people will always find new ways to hurt each other."

She thought about what he said and Gil watched her. He replayed her last question in his mind.

"Sara," he reached out and touched her hand gently. "Are you scared to go to Harvard?"

"I'm not scared of the work that is going to be involved. I don't think they would have accepted me if I wasn't capable," she said. She looked up at the ceiling and blinked her eyes hard a couple of time. "I'm sorry; I don't usually get worked up this easily. I am terrified to leave all this behind. My friends have become…a thir…a second family and I don't remember living anywhere else. Some days I think I must be losing my mind to be moving clear across the country to where I knew absolutely nobody."

Gil was ready to break out in a cold sweat. In that moment, she looked so vulnerable and forlorn, it hit him hard that all he wanted to do was to reach out and hold her and tell her that everything would be all right. This wasn't him, usually he missed the boat so badly when he tried to read into what someone was thinking and feeling. Maybe it was because she was so young, or maybe the people in his life just covered up their feelings so much better than she did. He swallowed and struggled to say something intelligent, yet still be empathetic.

"I know I don't know you that well, so I don't want to insult you and sound presumptuous, but from what I can see, you are a vibrant, intelligent woman. You don't lack courage, whether it is eating bugs or leaving that which is familiar to you," he said. "I believe that change shows us we have options and options show us we have the power to control our own lives. Darwin said that it is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change."

He was rewarded with a big smile, "Dr. Grissom, remind me never to play Trivial Pursuit with you. Thank you for saying that, it's a better perspective than feeling sorry for myself."

He insisted on paying for lunch. She made a half-hearted lunge for the paycheck and he smoothly trapped her hand between both of his. "Technically speaking you did get 'stiffed' on a tip Friday night, so this is the least I can do," he said.

As they left the deli she looked at him, "You know, just because it wasn't my major doesn't mean I don't know the jargon," she said. "And I do believe the statute of limitations is about to run out as to how long you can hold the first day of class over my head or last Friday night's conversation with Alice."

"How much longer is the statute viable," he asked genially.

"I would say about five more minutes," He frowned and she gave him a worried look. "What is it?" she asked.

"I'm trying to think if I have any more snide comments left to say," he grinned.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Gil paced around his small suite on Tuesday. He pulled out Sara's student information form a dozen times and thought about calling her. In a moment of true clarity, he realized his mom was right, he did like her. It wasn't like she was an 18-year-old kid just starting college, she was going to ace his class. In just a few more classes, she could technically flunk every lab and every test and still pass with a high D or low C, but that scenario depended on the strength of her group project. He just knew she wasn't the type to slack off at the last minute and coast through this final class. Yet, every time he thought about calling her, his integrity pinged at his conscience. It was just a little creepy to call her when the only way he could get her phone number was from the card. It would have been different if he had the information through personal channels. He wondered if she was working tonight. He had been to Cyma a dozen times in the last few years and had even spent some time in the upstairs bar listening to the music and drinking a bit too much on some nights. He wondered how many times their paths had crossed in that environment.

He threw himself on the couch and groaned. "Why now?" he said out loud to the empty room. She was going to Harvard in two months; he was taking a huge cut in pay and starting a new job in two months. He had no doubt the change in jobs would mean less vacation time and many weeks, if not months of 18-hour days. He was only 1 of 15 forensic entomologists in the country and had already been called to testify at different trials a dozen times.

Yet, he knew why it had to happen now. Gil had thrown himself into his work and had been a miserable boyfriend to several women in 15 years. Previously, when he taught these summer classes, he had set the schedule so that class was Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, lab was Wednesday at 800 AM. Los Angeles County paid for his round-trip flight every week and he usually worked at least 40 hours from Thursday noon until Sunday afternoon. It was the only way they would have permitted him to teach for eight weeks every year.

So, this was happening now, because it could. His resignation had been final four weeks ago; he was no longer at the mercy of receiving work faxes or emails on a daily basis. This was happening, because he had the time for it to happen. He didn't have other forces to distract him every waking moment of the day. Of course, Las Vegas was calling him at least twice a week, trying to convince him to rearrange his schedule to start work there on August 1st, rather than September 1st. Whoever that guy Brass was, he sure had balls made of…brass if he was that pushy.

"What was this?" he asked himself. He was not the type of man to have one night stands or casual flings. He may have come of age in the early 70's, but casual sex left him feeling both empty and that something important was missing from the physical interaction. Sometimes he even felt used and the false intimacy convinced him to avoid living for the moment and just fucking to fuck. In the end, the whole situation he was ruminating about was ridiculous. He and Sara would have a maximum of two months together before it would have to end. He could not consider a long-distance relationship. That would have been unfair to both of them.

In an instant a cold feeling came over Gil. He had been thinking about his thoughts, his wants, his feelings. He had not yet explored the idea that she may not like him in that way. She may not be going through even a fraction of the mind talk he was. He had been just as churlish, if not more so on that first day. He had touched her three times, but she had done nothing to indicate that she was even interested in seeing him outside of the classroom again.

He wanted to see her smile at him again. He wanted to hold her hand and do so much more. An ache filled his mind and body as he was treated to the fear of the unknown. It wasn't practical to try and take this to another level. He had the potential to be rejected and that would make things awkward for the next few weeks. What if her grade slipped and she was hovering at a score of 89.4 and he was forced to give her the honest B? His actions could come back to haunt him if he tried to take this into a personal relationship..

All of these thoughts made for a miserable night's sleep. He was at the classroom even before she was the next morning. He had just finished writing the outline for the day's notes on the board when she arrived. She gave him a smile and sat down in her usual place.

"This is normally the time when I get to do my best studying," she said.

"So you only spend 30 minutes a day studying for my class? What am I doing wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, I spend more time than that on your class, Dr. Grissom, this is just the quietest place and I have the fewest interruptions," she replied.

"I, uh…brought those books I was telling you about on Monday," he said.

He walked over to her and handed her the books. She glanced at them and flipped through them quickly. "They really just cover the basics of forensic investigations. In some places, they may be a little dry, but it won't be anything over your head," he said. She put them in her backpack.

"I'll get these back to you in a few days," she said. "Thanks much for remembering them. If I didn't say so before, thanks for coffee and lunch as well."

It was his opening and he knew it. He was sure his heart was pounding so loudly she had to hear it. He closed his eyes and willed himself to step off the ledge of security. He sat down in the chair next to hers instead of looming over her.

"Sara, I had a great time on Monday," he said. "I'd like to do it again. Are you free after class?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head, "Today isn't the best for me," she said.

Gil kept his expression neutral. There was only one way to see if this was a brush-off. "How about tomorrow after lab?" he tried again.

She sounded genuinely sorry, "I'm sorry tomorrow won't work either," she said.

There it was, he had made the attempt and she was trying to gracefully extricate herself. In his mind he had his answer and he struggled to be a gentleman in his response. "Well, thanks for Monday as well," he said. "It was my pleasure." He stood and hoped he was maintaining a bit of his dignity.

Her emotions flickered over her face and he avoided reading anything into them.

"Dr. Grissom…Gil," she said softly. "I have to work Wednesday, Thursday and Friday this week. I might not even be in lab tomorrow because I am scheduled to tend bar until closing tonight. Are you busy on Saturday?"

A soothing calm flooded over him in an instant. "I need to get my mom a birthday present," he said. "How do you feel about antique bookstores?"

"Love them," she replied without hesitation.

He reached for pen and paper. "Here's my phone number, call me when you have a chance and we can set up a time to meet," he said. "Since you have to work the night before, let me know what works the best for you." She nodded and took the paper from him.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your studying," he said. He resisted the urge to go to the rooftop and howl in caveman-like pride. As he prepared to go over his notes one more time, a thought entered his mind.

"Sara…do you have any questions?" he asked.

"Questions about what?" she responded.

"Uh, you know, the class, the chapter you're reading. I've been told I'm very knowledgeable on the subject."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The week dragged by with extreme slowness as far as Gil was concerned. He did actually sleep in late Saturday morning, but it was only because he had tossed and turned repeatedly until slipping into a restless sleep around 300 AM. She had called him by his first name, which was a good sign wasn't it? He wondered how his name would sound if she said it during more…intimate moments. He tried to clear his mind of that idea, but it was too late. Those thoughts kept him wide awake for an extra hour.

He showered, shaved and made an attempt to control the unruly curls that were his hair. He wasn't arrogant or vain, but he did know he was attractive to women. Several of them had told him his eyes were magnets and that he needed to smile more. Real men never worried about what to wear on a date, but he looked through his meager supply of clothes with some hesitation. He finally settled on a blue polo shirt and white shorts with boat shoes. After thinking about it, he took some of the cologne his mother had given him for Christmas and decided to wear it. 'Obsession,' he mused. 'Hopefully, it doesn't just drive women over 50 wild or I'm sunk.'

He really wanted a cigarette. He debated on going to his vehicle, he knew if he searched the glove compartment there was probably a partial pack in there. He had bought one a few weeks ago. But, if he left now, she might call. He could always take the phone off the hook for the couple of minutes he would be gone. He sighed and opted out of the urge for nicotine.

He didn't have long to wait, she called a few minutes after he was ready and he agreed to pick her up in an hour. She gave him directions to her place and told him she would be waiting outside the building. He left immediately and took his minivan to be washed. Part of him secretly wished he had his 1971 Mustang with him, but he really didn't think Sara was the type of woman to be overly impressed with cars. A minivan was just not a chick magnet, though. 'God,' he thought 'When is the last time I even thought about trying to impress somebody? I need to get it together.'

When he picked her up she was in shorts as well and some kind of shirt that had butterflies on it. She smelled like oranges. They talked about their week as Gil drove to the first of three antique bookstores on his list. She took the list from him and after seeing the addresses asked him how he felt about having lunch in Chinatown.

Luck was with him and he found two books in the first shop that he knew would be perfect for his mother. One was on ancient frescoes and the other one was over 100 years old and had biographies on famous artists of the 19th century. His mission was accomplished sooner than he expected and he wondered if Sara would want to end their time together after lunch. She had found a couple of older textbooks on Theoretical Physics and Chemistry to add to her shelf and seemed please with her success as well.

Sara was disappointed that he found the books at the first store. She wondered if he was trying to get rid of her or if he had other plans. Over lunch, she thought about a casual way of trying to extend their time together. As their fortune cookies were delivered to the table, she couldn't resist teasing him.

"You do know how to determine what your "real" fortune is, don't you?" she asked.

He was puzzled, but intrigued. "My real fortune, other than what is written on the paper?" he asked.

"Sure," she said confidently. "You add two words to the end of your fortune, no matter what it says."

"What two words would that be?" he said, already expecting a trap.

"In bed," she replied. "Here, I'll show you. 'Expect great changes in your life…in bed.' Now, what's yours?"

Gil cracked open his cookie, read it once and felt the blush travel over his face. His mind was at a standstill; otherwise he would have made a different one up in advance.

"Well, come on, give it up," said Sara. She was enjoying his discomfort and wasn't hiding that fact.

Gil swallowed and tried to think of dividing 10,962 by 126. Anything to keep him from facing the fact that he was aroused. He may have been hidden comfortably by the tablecloth, but still aroused. Finally, he said, almost in a whisper, "Give a kiss to the person who sits next to you…in bed."

Sara laughed and Gil cracked a smile. "Yours wins the prize for being the most embarrassing," she said. "Is there anything else you would like to do today?" she asked.

"I would kind of like to walk around Chinatown a bit, do you have any specific time you need to be home?" he asked.

"Nope, I am free for the day," she answered. "I brought my camera and would like to go to Coit Tower close to sunset if that's all right with you." Gil nodded and told her he had never been there. She reached for her purse and started to stand up to leave.

"Sara, let's have dessert," he said, in what he hoped was a conversational tone.

Parking was notoriously bad for the Pioneer Park area where Coit Tower was located. They walked slowly up Telegraph Hill and viewed the statue dedicated to firefighters before entering the tower to look at the murals. Gil was fascinated with the history and the artistry and knew he would come back again when he had more time. It was getting late and they were some of the last people to buy tickets for the ride to the top.

They took the elevator to the top of the tower. Off to the west, Sara could see the sun setting and she was again reminded of her bedroom and knew that she would probably never again snuggle down into her bed without thinking about this day and this view. The orange and red hues were like a fiery ball of light slowly sinking from the sky. She snapped a couple of pictures. One of the park rangers offered to take pictures of the two of them and their day was captured on film.

Gil could make out Alcatraz in the distance. As they walked around the observation area, he looked at the sites of San Francisco with only a cursory glance. In truth, Gil was watching her and noticing how the light seemed to capture all the shades of her hair. Her eyes seemed almost too bright. This was the perfect moment.

"Sara," he said hoarsely. She turned to him and noticed his eyes were dark, so dark she couldn't see the blue anymore. He reached over, tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek. "Sara," he said again. "May I kiss you?"

Her eyes widened and she found she could not voice her assent. She nodded.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and reflexively she put hers around his waist. As he leaned in, she closed her eyes. His first kiss was above her right eyebrow. His second kiss was on her cheek. Then she felt his lips softly touch hers and she kissed him back with a gentle intensity. She opened her mouth and he groaned as his tongue touched hers for the first time. It was sweet, it was erotic, it was romantic. Overall, it was amazingly perfect. He had needed this kiss just as he needed air, water and food.

Gil thought he could feel the blood pounding in his head. He pushed her back against the wall and continued kissing her, the urgency increasing with every passing second. She had moved her hands to his chest and was squeezing his torso. She threw her head back as Gil pushed himself closer to her. He trailed his tongue down her jaw line and began to suck on her neck. She gasped out loud and whimpered softly.

"Gil," she whispered. "Could we get out of here and go to my place…or your place? I don't want this to end." She was trembling hard against him. "If we continue this here, I won't be able to walk back to the car."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I haven't been posting the standard notes for this fic. No, I don't own this. Yes, it is non-canon or AU. At times the characters are OOC. I have never been to San Francisco, so all mistakes are author liberties. Thanks so much for those who are reading this an enjoying it. My first two fics were total flops, so it is good that this one has an audience.

Chapter 14

Much later, when he thought about it, Gil could not remember their long walk down the hill to his van. He knew they stopped a few times to kiss some more. He was glad it was dark enough to hide his arousal, but was now wishing he hadn't worn white shorts. As he opened her car door for her they kissed again and her hands roamed across his back and she pulled him closer to her. He slid his leg between hers and pressed against her crotch providing enough pressure to make her groan and squirm against him.

They were both breathless as he started to drive. They were holding hands and caressing each other's palms and fingers. He drove for about ten minutes in silence. There was an issue that hung in the air and he knew it needed to be covered before they went any farther down the path they were on tonight. He decided not to beat around the bush.

"I'm just going to come out and ask this, do we need to stop at a drugstore before we get to your place?" he said.

She thought for a moment. "I leave that decision to you," she answered. "I'm on the pill and I've been tested every year for school. I've been very safe in my life."

"I get tested every six months at work," he replied. "Safety isn't an issue for either of us and you're telling me that pregnancy isn't a concern?"

"No, it really isn't," she answered. Sara was trying to maintain a calm exterior, but internally she was a puddle of nerves. She couldn't think of any additional conversation, her mind was solely focused on all that her body had been feeling. Heat had flashed through her body when he had rubbed her with his knee. Somehow, he had managed to communicate concerns about birth control and protection in a very tasteful way.

He brought her hand up to his mouth and slowly kissed each knuckle and then gave it a comfortable squeeze. Gil knew he should say something, but he couldn't think of anything off the top of his head. He hoped the silence wasn't making her uncomfortable. He was reveling in his thoughts and what he hoped the rest of the night would bring.

They held hands as they walked to her apartment door. He was carrying the bag with her books in it and she fumbled in her purse for her keys. He followed her into the apartment and turned to lock the deadbolt. When he turned around to face her, she reached out to touch his face. He let her lean toward him and she kissed him tentatively at first, but then with more certainty. She broke the kiss and led him to her bedroom area.

Sara's confidence wavered as they stood next to the bed. She really didn't know what she should do next. Somehow he sensed that she was not a skilled aggressor in the bedroom. He reached over and pulled down the comforter and sheets. He lowered her to the bed and hovered over her, both of them fully dressed. He ran his hands through her hair and gently stroked her face.

"I want this to be good for you, Sara. I want to give you pleasure. Tell me what you want me to do to you, tell me what you want me to do for you, tell me what you want me to do with you," he said in a voice more erotic than his caresses.

Sara struggled to put what she wanted into words. No one had ever asked her those questions. She wished she had a poetic, eloquent answer. "I want you to make love to me with your hands, with your mouth and with your whole body," she said. "I want the chance to make your feel good and I hope you can feel the same intensity that I can"

He shuddered. "It will be good for me. But, I have a firm policy of 'ladies first'. Your pleasure will only enhance mine," he said with a devilish smile.

He slowly stroked the bare skin of her arms and his tongue followed where his fingers traced. He paid attention to how her body reacted when he touched her forearms. He began to count each and every freckle he could find.

He moved to kiss her again and felt his body grow taut as the kiss deepened and their tongues dueled. He began to use both hands to glide over her neck and he watched in delight as the goose bumps spread over her skin. Naturally his mouth followed his fingers and she lurched against him when his lips touched her exposed skin with easy kisses. He increased the pressure and she began to groan. He resisted the urge to suck and nibble harder, even thought he was certain she would be blissfully responsive to more pressure. Now was not the time to interrupt his ministrations to ask how she felt about visible marks. Summer in San Francisco meant no opportunity for turtlenecks he thought wistfully.

Meanwhile Sara had essentially ceased to have any cognizant thoughts. Her only focus was the sensations she was experiencing as he touched her everywhere. She had felt the wetness spreading between her legs and warmth spread through her body. This was a feeling of absolute sweetness.

He sat up and placed most of his weight on his knees. 'Slowly, gently and softly-this is the key to her desire' he thought. One by one, he unbuttoned the buttons on her shirt. He was battling against his own desire to hurry up and tear the shirt from her body. When all the buttons were done, he spread the shirt open and began to explore the new areas of skin available to him. He painfully avoided her breasts. While tickling her ribs she jerked involuntarily and giggled.

He leaned forward and brought his mouth next to her ear, "I'll have to remember that you're ticklish, but maybe that's not quite the sensation you want. Hmmm?"

"God, Gil. Everything you are doing feels so good. I think every nerve in my body is exploding in arousal," she said.

With a feather-like touch he wrapped both of his hands around her bra-clad breasts. He slid the straps from her shoulders and in a fluid motion unhooked the front clasp on her bra. She shuddered as he opened the cups and cool air enveloped her nipples. With painstaking patience he slid the shirt and bra from her body. The only sign that his resolve was weakening was when he tossed her clothes on the floor and threw his shirt in the same general direction.

He pressed his body against hers and kissed her again-many times. "God, Sara…do you know what you're doing to me?" He ground his erection into her and knew she could feel his hardness through the four layers of clothes separating those parts of their bodies.

She reached for him and began to run her fingers through his hair while pulling him to her. She deepened the kiss and whimpered at the contact of his muscled chest to her breasts. His coarse chest hair only made the sensations more erotic. She groaned as he shifted away from her and slid down her body. Her nipples were hard and they ached for something more than just the pressure of his chest against hers. He continued his agonizing stroking of her again this time making lazy circles around her both of her breasts. He was completely avoiding the pink nipples and slightly darker areole. First with his fingers and then with his tongue-the method had proven effective so far. She almost wondered if he was writing the alphabet on her skin.

Gil had been mesmerized with her chest the moment he saw her breasts for the first time. Her nipples were hard and they only seemed to get harder as he rubbed his chest into hers. He was fighting for control. If he moved too fast now, it would spoil what he had accomplished up to this point. She was so wonderfully responsive to his touch. He watched her face as it constantly changed expression from curious wonderment to arousal. Without warning, he placed his mouth around one of the pebble-like nipples and sucked firmly.

Her body literally did an all-over spasmed and bucked into his…hard. Her moans turned into a wail. "Oh…shit…Gil….your mouth…your tongue….Oh, God….so good." Her sporadic trembling and shuddering was now an ongoing event. Reluctantly, he left her breasts and began a path down her rib cage; part of him had wanted to see if she could have an orgasm just from having her breasts stimulated. Maybe that would be an activity for another time. He used his fingers and tongue to slide in between her shorts and her waistline. He reached for the button on her shorts.

A/N: C'mon now, after 13 chapters, you didn't actually think the smut was going to happen in just one chapter? More to follow as soon as my Beta starts speaking to me again.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Sara took a deep breath as he opened her shorts and slid them down her legs. She was almost totally naked except for her lacy white panties. In her mind, she wished she had worn something sexier, but lingerie had never been an issue before now. He was sitting at her feet between her legs staring at her intently. Even though the room was dark she could make out the expression of desire on his face. She wished she had thought to turn on a light so she could watch his eyes and read his body language better.

Gil avoided tickling her feet, but he brought his hands up her legs. Her breathing hitched when he kissed behind her left knee. That was definitely another spot for him to file away for use at a later date. He used his fingers to slowly move the elastic of her panties and begin to slide them away from her body. As he had done previously, every fragment of skin that became available to him was explored thoroughly with his mouth and fingers. He couldn't really determine which sensation she enjoyed better by her reactions. The slight tickle as his fingers woke up the nerves or the wetness and suction his mouth provided. She was so sweet and so unconsciously responsive.

Finally she was naked before him. Recognizing that she might have flashes of vulnerability, he removed his shorts and briefs as well.

He gently explored her cleft. His fingers combed through the soft curly hair on her mound and he noticed that her nub was already erect. She was obscenely wet which caused her lips to glisten. The moment his thumb brushed her clit she hissed and her eyes slammed shut. He focused on indirectly observing her so as not to make her self-conscious, but it was crucial for him to find out how to touch her. He wanted to ask her how he could please her, but he didn't want to ruin her train of thought or diminish the sensations with too much conversation.

Sara felt like her body could experience no greater feeling than what was now happening. All of her thoughts seemed to be focused on her clit and the mounting tension she was feeling. She started to moan every time he touched or grazed her button. Gil was reminded of a shooting gallery at the county fair. Every time he was on target, she lurched or shifted-her version of changing directions. Her body was rocking back and forth in a rhythm he hoped to experience with his cock soon. He slid a finger inside her and liquid fire exploded around him as she went over the edge.

"God, Gil….oh please, please…don't stop. Please," she pleaded. He laughed low in his throat and added a second finger inside her, she was wet enough to accommodate more, but he wasn't in a hurry. He swiveled his fingers and touched her in places she didn't even know existed. A sensation that reminded her of climbing and floating flooded through her. As her second orgasm hit, he leaned forward and took her clit in his mouth. She responded in a keening wail and wondered if it was possible to pass out from climactic pleasure. Bright colors flashed behind her closed eyelids and her body was now covered in a sheen of sweat.

He slowed down his motions and when she appeared to relax, he began again. She shook her head and reached for him. "Gil, please I'm ready. I want more," she said. He gave her one last lick before sliding up her body. He wiped his face with his hand and leaned in to pepper her face with kisses.

Gil positioned himself at her opening and looked into her eyes as he pushed himself cautiously inside her. She was watching him with a mixture of awe and something else he couldn't quite place. She was indescribably warm and tight. "Honey, oh honey you feel so good around me," he said. He started to stroke in and out of her going a little deeper each time. She was raising herself up to meet his thrusts and he continued to tease her, sensing her frustration. He was preparing to thrust himself fully into her in a just a couple more strokes…when he reached a barrier…her barrier. Horrifying clarity raced through him as he froze in place.

"Oh God. Oh my God. Christ. Nnnnooo, Sara…don't move. Please don't move." He placed his hands on her hips and held her in firmly in place, pressing her into the mattress. He dug his fingers so hard into her skin that she would probably be bruised later. His eyes were closed, his jaw was clenched and sweat was popping out on his forehead. Gil was utterly horrified at the internal struggle between biology and doing the morally correct thing. His mind was in a tailspin of many thoughts. The primary thought being: 'Why did I not think to ask just one more question?"

Morality won. He pulled out of her and flopped on his stomach next to her. His body was shaking and his breathing was raspy. She let out a sob and rolled away from him curling into a ball on her side. Once he had regained a semblance of control he picked up his shorts, put them on, covered her with the blankets and curled against her.

"Sara, please look at me," he said.

She elbowed him sharply in the solar plexus. "Just go…just leave," she whispered woodenly.

"Sara," he tried again. He reached out to touch her shoulder.

"You're a real bastard, you know it?" She snarled.

"You have to believe me, I'm truly not trying to be," he said with heartfelt sincerity.

She turned toward him and used both hands to push him away. "Could you just leave me alone," she hissed. Her eyes were blazing in pure anger. She pushed him again.

"Sara, stop it." He straddled her and grabbed both of her hands, pinning them to the mattress. "Listen to me," he said urgently. "I would rather have you embarrassed and angry at me than filled with a lifetime of regret. There are TWO people in this bed right now. And, right now, this very moment it is about want I want and not just you."

She never blinked. "What is it that you want?" she spat.

"Honestly?" he asked. She reluctantly nodded.

"I want you to put some clothes on, I want us to go out to the living room and I want us to talk," he said.

The hostility still emanated from her body. He loosened his hold on her hands.

"First of all, if you're too embarrassed to talk about what we are doing, then that is the best indicator we shouldn't be doing this," he said. "Secondly, I'll make you a deal: we talk through this, in its entirety with no time limit. After we're done, if you still want me to leave, I will thank you for the lovely day and walk out your door with no hard feelings on my part."

After a long moment, she nodded. "Okay, I agree," she said.

A/N: Seriously, I wanted to write a story that had humor, conflict, character development, pop culture, a few inside jokes, romance, smut and angst in it. Not-so-seriously…guess what I am exploring with this chapter-and the next one?


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

He went out to her living room to give her some privacy. When she appeared he was leaning on the kitchen counter. She opened the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water and waggled it in his direction. He shook his head.

"I was wondering if you had anything stronger," he said.

She pulled out a half empty bottle of scotch and a bottle of vodka. He poured himself a shot of the scotch while she fixed herself a screwdriver. The bite of the scotch made his head throb and took his mind off other areas that were relentlessly throbbing. She was looking at him, but not speaking. He filled his glass to the top.

"Sara, I'm not "that guy", he said.

"That guy," she echoed.

"I'm not that guy that would screw you and then have his pants on before you could open your eyes and be out the door like The Flash," he said. "I don't know if you understand that or not. If we had made love tonight I would've been here for breakfast tomorrow. I can't just treat this like a two-hour romp in the sack and then leave."

"Well, it is safe to say that the issue has never occurred before in my life," she said scathingly

He canted his head and waved his hand in concession, "Point taken. But, I don't normally engage in casual sex. I don't judge other consenting adults, but it isn't for me. Additionally, I have never had sex with a student or subordinate. On top of that, we need to discuss something important."

"What would that be?" she asked.

"The irrefutable fact that in 70 days you will be starting school at Harvard and I will be starting a new job in Vegas. We will be thousands of miles apart," he said. "What you have to…offer a man is not something that should be taken lightly and the time to decide to give it is not in the post-bliss stage of two…what I can only assume powerful orgasms."

A tinge of red crossed her face as she moved to the futon and sat down on one end, curling her legs underneath her. He grabbed the bottle and glass and sat on the other side of the couch. He was considering his next words carefully.

"Please believe me, I'm not trying to embarrass you," he said. "I'm not trying to speak in overly flowery terms. But what you're giving me is not something I want to take under these circumstances. I don't want you to think I am rejecting you because there is something wrong with you."

"Are you finished?" She asked.

"For the moment," he replied.

"You're wrong, you know."

"How so?"

"I decided long before we were on my bed that I was ready for this. Do you think I didn't know what was going to happen when we got here? Do you think I didn't know from the kiss on top of Coit Tower?" she asked.

"You're a vibrant, attractive, intelligent woman. However, for whatever reason you chose until 20 minutes ago to remain a virgin."

"There's no deep-rooted complicated explanation for it, Gil," she said. "I went to an all-girls' high school. I didn't like the mixers we had with our brother school. When I came to college I had the opportunity to be around other science geeks. It was liberating to have friends with the same interests. Sex just never entered the picture for me, I guess. Most of the people I hung out with had similar backgrounds of being the brainiacs at school. It was nice to be part of the crowd rather than being on the outside looking in to what I couldn't be."

"Then my next questions would be, why me? Why now?" he asked.

"I like you…a lot. I enjoy the time I've spent with you," she said. "Maybe it's because…."

"Because why?" he prompted.

"Because in this moment in time, I know you're safe." She held up her hand when he started to speak. "Let me continue, please." He nodded at her request. "You aren't going to ask me to commit to a long-term relationship. You aren't going to expect me to give up my life and my dreams for you. You aren't going to demand that I sacrifice my future so that you can achieve your professional and personal goals. For me, there is some comfort to having the parameters neatly defined."

"What you are calling neatly defined, I consider a deterrent," he said. "What if there isn't enough time?"

"How many people start out actually knowing how much time they have with another person?" she asked.

"I'm still not ready to call it a positive aspect," he said. "I don't want you to use me as a reason not to go to Harvard."

"You don't have to worry about that happening," she said evenly.

Gil stared at his hands in silence. "I should have known this was your first time. I should have seen it-there were signs and I think I overlooked them because of how much I wanted you."

When he used the past tense term it hurt Sara and his statement irritated her. "What did I do wrong?" she asked.

Gil recognized his mistake immediately. "Sara you know enough about biology and human sexuality. You have to know that I'm attracted to you. If you don't know it, I was-and still am desiring you to the point of agony."

Her mind flashed to the physical sensations she had experienced right before he had taken her over the edge into orgasm. She could relate to what it was feeling, but had doubts it was exactly the same between the two genders. "So what did I do wrong? You said there were signs," she said.

"Don't have that mindset. It isn't that you did anything wrong," he paused and thought before speaking again.

"I wish I had a more eloquent way to say this, but unfortunately a colloquialism is the most effective," he said. "I suck at this part of interpersonal relationships. I fail to recognize certain subtle signs of human behavior. I rely on the purity of science to the point where I neglect to consider the aspect of human foibles."

"If you have any doubts, you aren't making yourself very clear," she said.

He sighed. "Let me try this again. In my experience it's safe to say that in most instances a woman touches a man how she would like him to touch her," he said. "Oftentimes, it's an extension of her personality. Your personality is assertive and independent, which are both qualities that appeal to me on an intellectual level and a physical level."

She gave him a half-hearted smile, "I think I know where you're going with this," she said.

"As I look back over our physical contact you never initiated anything that was blatantly erotic or sexual. You were playful when you tried to wrestle me for the check at lunch, but not trying to tease or instigate foreplay," he said. "You only kissed me after I had kissed you. Other than leading me to the bedroom, you didn't try to direct anything to the next level. Your assertiveness did not carry over into the bedroom." He gave her a teasing smile and nudge. "My male ego was more than happy to assume it was because you wanted me to be the aggressor and that I had instantaneously swept you into a state of euphoria that inhibited your ability to move your hands."

She laughed and it was a welcome sound. "Well, truth be told, you're not too far off in your assessment," she said.

"That should make my head swell for a few months at least," he said.

She yawned pointedly, "It's getting late."

He recognized his cue, stood and stretched. "Let me get my shirt and shoes and I will be out of your way," he said. He headed toward her bedroom area.

"Gil," she said softly. "As per our earlier conversation and agreement…I'm not asking you to leave."

He looked at her and was obviously unconvinced.

"Consider this a rhetorical question that you don't have to answer," she said. "71 days from now, will you be wondering what we could have had together if only you had been willing to take a chance? Right now, I'm putting myself out there and I'm taking the risk of rejection, because 71 days from now…I won't regret not trying."

His heart began pounding harder. "Are you sure?"

"I'm very sure," she replied. "But, just as important…are you sure?"

He nodded. "Sara, what do you want?"

"Gil…stay with me tonight. Sleep with me," she said.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Gil woke up first the next morning. Sara was on asleep on her stomach with her arm draped over him. He gently extricated himself from her clutch and went to use the bathroom. He stood in her bathroom, debating on the issue of personal privacy for a moment before soundlessly opening her medicine cabinet and removing her toothpaste. He used his finger to brush his teeth and then washed his face. He ran his hands over his face and winced. After checking to see that she was still asleep, he went out to his van to rifle through his bag of extra clothes and toiletries.

He quietly shaved the stubble from his face using a disposable razor and a sample size of shaving cream. Then he went and slipped back into bed. He was lying on his side and began to kiss her collarbone. She stirred and opened her eyes sleepily to look at him. He kissed her chastely on the mouth.

"Good morning," he said.

She stretched and gave him a sly smile. "Yes, it is. Did you sleep well?" she asked.

There were things that Gil thought but would never have lowered himself to say out loud to another person. At this moment the primary statement he knew to keep to himself was, "Hell, NO! I've had a raging boner for 15 miserable hours." He knew this was a good time to deflect her question and change the subject.

"Well, to be honest with you," he began in all seriousness. "There was the incredibly loud noise emanating from my sleeping partner. How can such a tiny person utter snores of that decibel? It sounded like a room full of lumberjacks. Plus, someone in this room, who shall of course remain nameless, but it isn't me, is a cover hog and tried to steal my pillow on multiple occasions."

She swatted him and it turned into a mock wrestling match. The bout ended with him on top of her kissing her deeply. She moaned against him and ran her hands over his back

He sighed happily. "Would you like me to make some coffee?" he asked nibbling on her earlobe.

She shook her head. "You know, I really think the two of us should take a shower," she said.

"I can make the coffee if you want to shower first," he replied easily.

She looked up at the ceiling in mock exasperation, "Of course, you would make me spell it out for you. I'd like to take a shower with you," she said as she ran one finger down his chest, following his love trail of hair to the waistband of his shorts. She popped open the button on his shorts easily.

They moved into her bathroom and she adjusted the temperature of the water. She continued to stroke his chest while helping him step out of his shorts and briefs. She traced lazy circles around his thighs and hips. Gil removed her t-shirt and she leaned on him as she slipped out of her shorts.

In the shower their hands roamed freely exploring every inch of the other person. Well, she stroked him almost everywhere…she was still avoiding his hard shaft, but her fingers teased his pubic hair and thighs. Sara's skin hummed as his fingers glided over her. He tipped her head back under the spray of water and reached for the shampoo. She was luxuriating in the pampering and never knew it could be so enticing to have her hair shampooed and scalp massaged.

After rinsing the shampoo from her hair she picked up the body wash and loofah. "This isn't a flowery scent or anything overly feminine," she said to him as she lathered up the mitt. He hissed when she touched him with the prickly texture. She started at his shoulders and worked her way down to his feet soaping him thoroughly. Then she made a motion and he turned away from her and braced himself on the shower wall flexing the muscles in his back.

She traveled up his legs and began to lather and squeeze his ass. She removed the loofah and used her hands. He trembled a few times when her fingers grazed his sac from behind. She moved him under the spray of water. He washed his hair quickly and rinsed off turning back to face her.

She was building quite a handful of suds when he looked at her. She never broke his stare as she reached and touched him for the first time. His eyes were half closed and his mouth was open. She used both of her hands to thoroughly coat his cock in soap. She did the same with his balls and then proceeded to lather her hands again. She reached for him once more and he gently placed one of his hands on top of hers. He squeezed her harder around the flesh than she would have thought to do. In one motion, he showed her something important. By directing her movements, together they moved the foreskin back from the head of his cock. He shuddered and removed his hands so she could continue her explorations.

She used her palm and ran it around the exposed head. Gil's head flew back and hit the shower nozzle. "Oh!" she gasped. He shook head his furiously. "It doesn't hurt…no big deal….ooohhh God."

She now used both of her hands and was running them up the length of his cock in tandem. Every time they returned to the head of his shaft his knees trembled. He gritted through clenched teeth, "Okay, Sara….enough….if you don't quit….FUCK!" She had squeezed his balls with a bit more pressure than before and stroked him three or four times quickly and firmly, each stroke ending with a grasp of the head. He lost control and came in her hand…hard.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he wheezed.

"Oh, but I'm not the least bit sorry," she said in a sultry voice that penetrated through the fuzziness in his brain. He was using both hands to support himself and keep him upright. She leaned into him and sucked on one of his nipples.

He grabbed her hands. "That is so not helping my concentration. Bed…now." That was about as coherent as he could be.

When they tumbled onto her bed he pulled her on top off him. She leaned forward and kissed him, while rocking and rubbing herself against him. He was only about half hard and when she sat up, she paused to look at him.

"I want you on top," she said, her voice quavering.

"Honey, I thought it might be better this time, if you set the rhythm and the pace," he replied.

"Please," she said the plea visible in her eyes.

He rolled her over and took one of her nipples in his mouth. His hands were caressing her lips and making circles indirectly stimulating her clit. She shuddered and pawed at him. He increased the suction on her nipple and was rewarded by feeling her clit become hard and she grew wet. He took his time, but there was a greater sense of urgency that neither of them had actually put a voice to. He switched back and forth between her nipples and soon she was climaxing around his hand. He would have continued to bring her to as many orgasms as she wanted in this manner, but she reached for his hand.

"Gil, I'm ready….God, I'm ready," she pleaded.

A vague sense of déjà vu came over Gil as he positioned himself. A thought crossed his mind and he reached for a pillow. "Let me slide this under your hips," he said.

Both of them watched each other cautiously as he penetrated her. He used the same method as he had last night. Slowly, inserting what seemed to him like a centimeter at a time he pushed into her. This time he knew what would happen. When he reached her hymen, he stopped. The thought crossed through his mind that he had never been with a virgin before and had absolutely no empirical evidence as to what this would feel like for her. It would hurt…that much he knew, but it was pain he couldn't relate to…was it a temporary pain…or was it liked getting kicked in the groin? For him, the experience was all warmth, wetness and oh, so snug.

He didn't withdraw completely and slam into her. He took a deep breath and pushed another inch into her and felt her body tighten around him to the point he wondered if he could breathe. Then in the next second he could move freely again. She was looking at him with a mix of pain and awe.

"Sara, this is a good time for you to tell me that you're okay," he said in a hushed tone.

She began to breathe again. When had she started to hold her breath? "It's a new sensation, but it isn't that painful. Maybe a little bit of discomfort. I feel full and like I am being stretched," she said. It is definitely okay."

He licked his fingers and brought them between their bodies to flick at her nub. "The next move is yours," he said. "You may be on the bottom, but if you put your hands on my waist, you'll be able to pull me to you or raise yourself to me."

Her first few movements were involuntary jerking motions from his fingers stimulating her clit. She did start to rock against him and he held himself painfully in place with his knees and one hand. Only after she was able to take his entire length inside her did he start to pump in and out, meeting her stroke for stroke and letting her dictate the pace. The natural progression saw their joining become faster, stronger and with more power behind their coupling.

Oh, GodGodGod…it's so intense….I'm there….I'm coming," she said, but all words following that pronouncement were incoherent.

Gil wasn't surprised he hadn't come first. The pulsing of her walls as she lost control around him was some of the most incredible pleasure he had ever felt in his life. Part of him never wanted this moment to end. This is what he did to her; this is how he made her feel. The rush of satisfaction that he could make her respond with such an impressive release flooded through him. He continued to stroke her through her ongoing orgasm. When he thought she was nearing the end, he picked up the pace and felt her muscles weakly grasp him and stroke his entire cock as he finally came inside her. He moaned and panted, but made no attempt to speak his pleasure; his power of speech had been short-circuited.

Both of them felt him soften inside her and slip out of her. She felt an odd sense of loss not having him between her legs anymore.

He covered them up with the blankets as they spooned together on their sides. He kissed her brow.

"Sara, from the bottom of my heart…thank you very much," he said.

"Funny," she said. "I was trying to think of a way to say the same thing to you."

A/N: Thanks to all who have been reading and reviewing. I have tried to answer everyone. Please note this chapter is unbeta'd. (Poor Beta has gone to the beach for the weekend and won't see this until Sunday night). Anyway, no new chapters until Monday morning at the earliest. have a good weekend!


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Unbeta'd and a bit rough. I am still debating on whether or not to change the order of things. Paragraph one is meant as an homage to the voiceover from Fallen Idols

Chapter 18

Albert Einstein was once asked to explain his theory of relativity so that the everyday person could understand it. He thought for a few minutes and then said, "Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity." What this highly intelligent man didn't say is that time is dependent on certain factors. There isn't a universal list of these factors as they vary from person to person and situation to situation.

It was the last day of class. Compared to the first three weeks of class, these last five weeks had been gone in the blink of an eye. Gil wondered when he would ever have the chance to teach again and in some ways he was saddened. This last class had been something unique, even special. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't because of Sara, but in a small part it was-because of her, he had been different.

His original inquiry of asking her if she needed any help with the chapter had turned into an informal tutoring session that ran before each class. He fully knew that he had had an ulterior motive that day-keeping her score well above the magic number 89.4. For that first day, it had only been Sara, but as the students came into the classroom and observed their conversation and his additional notes on the blackboard, more of them began to show up early. There were probably 20 students who would be in their seats by 830 and it was a casual, happy group. Some of their questions were relevant; others were completely off the wall. Any obscure fact was certain to inspire a humorous comment from Engvall.

Gil had too much integrity to give these 20-some students any answers to the tests and they were never warned in advance of pop quizzes. He enjoyed the time he spent with them, but he wouldn't disrespect them or himself by giving them that kind of unfair advantage. He was greatly amused in their ability to make him see things from their perspective in not-so-subtle ways. One time he brought in two boxes of donuts and set them on the table. He waved his hand toward the boxes and said, "Help yourself." No one came forward and he found himself observing the students with a perplexed look on his face. He tried to meet Sara's eyes, but she had her head lowered and was blatantly hiding a smile.

"All right, people," he said. "I am not going to eat 24 donuts, so come on, and help yourself. What seems to be the problem?"

"Uh, Dr. Grissom…I was wondering," ventured Kendall.

"Yes, Mr. Wright, what is it?" he asked.

"Did you buy those donuts or make them yourself?" he answered.

So, on this last day of class, Gil was in a great mood. Sara's group had already presented their project, the final exam had been taken on Wednesday and she had a final score of 102 percent. She never needed to know that he had graded her test first Today the last four groups would present their project and then it was over and done with, except for turning in final grades.

As he neared his classroom he heard raucous laughter. Gil glanced in and saw Engvall was standing at the blackboard with his back to the door, a piece of chalk in one had and a pair of glasses in the other hand that he was waving around with alarmingly familiarity. Gil entered the classroom quietly and put his finger to his lips. This caused some of the students to snort, but did not alert Mr. Engvall.

"Now, people…PEOPLE, listen to me. This next visual aid is one that should stay with your for the rest of your life. This little guy is known as _insectus upyouranusus_ and can often be found in people who work for the Department of Motor Vehicles. It has been known to crossbreed with _disgustus maxima intelligus_ which is now known to reside in anyone who can name the fourteen punctuation marks in standard American English Grammar without looking them up," Engvall paused while the students roared.

From the doorway, Gil applauded. Engvall looked utterly horrified and Gil walked over to shake his hand. "Promise me, one thing, Bill," said Gil. "You won't quit your day job, okay?"

He looked at Sara who was wiping tears from her eyes. She mouthed the words, 'I'm sorry' to him but made no other gesture of overt familiarity. After one of false start, they had settled into a pattern where they didn't talk about the class at all. They had so many other things to talk about. It had been awkward when he had asked what she wanted to do after class and she had looked at him and good-naturedly said, "I kind of need to meet with my group for my class project and do a little studying. The Prof is a real hard-ass. How about we meet up for lunch?"

So, after five weeks it was hard to say they had settled into a routine, but they had worked out their schedules together. After class, she would go her own direction, study or work on her group project. He would return to his suite on campus, do his prep work for the next class, correct any tests or quizzes, IM with his mother and feed his bugs. If Sara didn't have to work, they would meet up around lunch time. The days she did work, Gil found himself feeling…almost lonely. The only thing worse than that were the nights she tended bar and he slept alone. He had read somewhere that it took a repetition of 12 times for something to become a habit. He was in the habit of sleeping with Sara after three or four nights together. It was the night's he was alone that he wrestled with his conflicting thoughts and feelings.

Over July 4th weekend he had gone home to Los Angeles and while he was glad to see his mother he was moody for most of the time. She seemed to sense this and was quieter than usual. A couple of times she squeezed his shoulder in quiet support.

The night before he was scheduled to return to Berkeley he was lounging on the patio in a lawn chair drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette. His mother came out with a bottle of wine. He visibly winced when she turned on the bug zapper light.

She laughed, "I know you hate that thing sonny boy, but it is a bit hard for me to read your lips or hands in the dark," she said.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. It entered Gil's mind, not for the first time, this is what it must be like for his mom all the time. This silence that left him trapped with his thoughts.

"It is a mother's prerogative to worry," she said. "Are you able to tell me what's wrong?"

He swung his legs over the side of the chair and faced her. "I think I made a mistake, Mom. You were right, I did like her….I do like her. But now that I have acted on that, I'm going to lose her soon," he said miserably. "She leaves for Harvard in 45 days."

"What do you want to do?" she asked him.

"A huge part of me wants to say, 'fuck it' and go with her," he said.

His mother had raised her eyebrows at the profanity, but had not chastised him. "But that isn't who you are and you're thinking less of yourself because of that," she said.

"On some level, yes," he said. "The bottom line is: I have to let her go."

"Yes, you do," she said. "It isn't really fair to Sara if you follow her out there. She will be torn between being a good partner to you and finding her own path in life. She might grow to resent you. Three years from now, she may feel obligated to either stay there because you have established yourself in a career or go where it is best for you, but not her."

Gil could only nod.

"My precious child, permit me to give you some advice?" she asked. He nodded again. "If you still have 45 days left to be with her, don't start saying goodbye now. Life the time you have together fully and revel in each other." She stood up and kissed him on top of his head. Before going inside the house she turned off the bug zapper and left Gil and his thoughts in darkness.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

July 29th, 1991

Gil spent all weekend correcting exams, reviewing group projects and tabulating the final grades. Sara was keeping busy working her last shifts at the restaurant. Waking up early Monday morning, Gil felt like he had a hangover, from all the paperwork but after a shower he was energized as he loaded his minivan and drove to the Administration Building to turn in the grades. He made arrangements for his final paycheck to be sent to his mother's address in Los Angeles.

From there, it was a quick drive to Sara's apartment. They would be together for two more weeks before he went to spend time with his mother and she wrapped up her time in San Francisco. It was ironic that they should finally meet at a time in their lives when both of their lives were about to change so much.

That and many other thoughts were with Gil as he now unloaded his van. If he'd been more organized, he would have started to move his stuff over to her place last week. They had agreed he would stay at her place, but he still felt it would have been presumptuous to invade her space before today. He piled his boxes, suitcases and briefcases outside her door. Then he stood there, for a moment uncertain whether to knock first or use the key she had given him. Ultimately, deciding not to wake her if she was still asleep, he let himself in quietly with the key.

After he had finished piling his stuff in the living room area, he started to make coffee. While it was brewing he walked over to where Sara was still asleep. He leaned against the wall and watched her for a few minutes. He had never had the chance to watch her sleep. On mornings they were together and had class to attend, they both woke up and rushed around getting ready, bumping into each other in the bathroom, the kitchen and at the doorway for one last kiss. On the mornings they didn't have class…when one of them woke up, invariably the other one woke up soon after with a few soft caresses to help the process.

Soon, the temptation was too much for him and he silently removed his shoes, socks and shirt and slid in bed to curl around her. He used his tongue to tease around her ear and she woke with a soft purr of contentment. He was becoming aroused, but that seemed to be his constant state whenever they were alone together.

"Mmmm, babe is it going to permanently damage your fragile male ego if I have some coffee and breakfast instead of the dessert you are offering now?" she asked seductively.

"I thought you might feel that way, the coffee is brewing and I grabbed some bagels," he said.

"That sounds good…just as long as it isn't anything you cooked," she replied. He swatted her on her ass good-naturedly. "I have you eat bugs one time and now I will never live it down."

She reached over and nipped at his chest. "Speaking of things that aren't going down…" she suggestively stroked him through his pants.

"You have five seconds to stop that or it could be five hours before you get your coffee," he hissed.

With a sigh and a peck on his cheek she rolled away from him and out of bed. He reluctantly followed her to the kitchen and put a bagel in the toaster while she poured two cups of coffee. These were mundane actions for most people, but it was a happy sort of domesticity for the two of them.

They chatted about their scheduled road trip for tomorrow and Sara started a combined load of laundry. After she had eaten her bagel she arched an eyebrow at him, "You know, I am all for confidence. But, really…five hours? That makes me want to say, 'prove your hypothesis, Dr. Grissom."

He did.

The next morning they were on the road before sunrise. Las Vegas was at least a nine hour drive and Gil had appointments in the early evening to look at a few condos and town homes. After that he was going to drop Sara back at the hotel while he went in to meet Captain Brass and fill out some paperwork.

The fourth place Gil and Sara looked at was perfect. It was a town home about 20 minutes from the lab. It had three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a two car garage. It was more than enough space for him. The back yard was spacious to him since he had lived in apartments after he moved out of his mother's house. Sara was not impressed with the lighting or the current paint job; she thought it looked too…neutral for him. He assured her that by the time he put in new carpeting, painted the walls and hung up his butterfly collection it wouldn't be quite so dull.

He made an appointment with the realtor for the following morning to start the loan process. Gil wasn't too worried about being approved, he wasn't a rich man, but with the money he had saved in the last 15 years he would have enough for a down payment that would make his mortgage quite a bit less than what he had paid for an apartment in Los Angeles. Of course, this caused him to think again about the cut in pay he would be taking for this CSI job. For the umpteenth time he wondered if he was making a mistake.

He returned to their room at the Bellagio around 100 AM. Sara was asleep and after a 20 hour day he was beat. He had met Captain Brass and found him to be a gruff man with a sharp New Jersey twang to his voice. Yet, he had some quality that made him likable. He had also met Catherine Willows, the newest CSI on the team (until he officially started work). She was a bit too flirty for a first time meeting, but this was Vegas. He had spent an hour talking to Al Robbins in the morgue and the two men had an immediate rapport as they swapped "strange autopsy stories".

The next morning he awoke to the wonderful sensation that most men only dream about. Sometime in the night he must have rolled over and slept on his back. Sara was between his legs and was softly blowing on his testicles through his briefs. Her hands were running alongside the inside his thighs and he shivered. Without hesitation, he removed his underwear and Sara continued to torment him by licking all the exposed areas. He hadn't had to 'teach' her to perform oral sex; she had become adept at observing his reactions and had used the trial and error method in her first few approaches. In a moment of intimate discussion she had told him that is was a thrill for her to excite him with her mouth and tongue because she had voluntary control over her mouth whereas below the waist most of her reactions were involuntary.

She licked him from the base of his shaft to the end using her tongue to tease the foreskin still covering the head of his cock. She wrapped her mouth around him and slowly used her tongue to pull the skin back and expose him completely. He hissed as her tongue swirled around the head and flicked back and forth across the delicate membrane of skin at the base. She began to move her mouth up and down, taking more of him inside her.

Gil understood the power of pacing. He knew that it didn't all have to happen at once, that separating each stimulus can intensify each touch. Sometimes pausing could be more poignant than continuing. But, best of all, with age and maturity came the wisdom of learning how to let a woman make love to him.

Even with all those profound thoughts he found himself rapidly approaching his release. His hands tangled in her hair as his hips thrust in time with her mouth. He tugged gently on her hair and she laughed before giving him a final swipe with her tongue.

She slid up his body and when he reached for her center she playfully pinned his arms. He smiled broadly as she lowered herself onto him. He was about halfway inside her when instinct took over and his hips lifted from the mattress at the same time he reached for her hips impaling her on him. Her mouth opened in an O as she began to move in a steady rhythm. This time when he reached for her, she didn't stop him and her movements became more erratic as he played with her clit. This wasn't the longest relationship Gil had ever had with a woman, but it was the relationship that had proven to be the most sexually compatible.

She tossed her head back as her body stiffened and her muscles contracted violently around him. He continued to stroke her clit until she opened her eyes to look at him.

"Babe, that is so amazing," she whispered as she continued to tremble.

"I couldn't agree more," he acquiesced.

Again, she began to ride him in a slow and steady manner. Gil was on the edge of his own orgasm and while he was resisting the urge to turn her over and take control, he needed to pick up the pace before his brain turned to mush. This time he used his hands on her hips to help him buck into her and pull her into s steady rhythm that was increasingly picking up speed and thrust.

"God, Sara…you are incredible…so good," he panted. "Oh, yeah…that's it…now…coming." In the middle of his orgasm he felt her body tighten around his once again. She collapsed onto his chest as snuggled into him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head and her brow. When she lifted her head, they kissed each other deeply and intimately.

A/N: Next chapter is probably the last chapter. :)


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

They only stayed in Vegas four days, even though they had planned to be there a week. Once the paperwork had been set in motion for Gil to buy the town home and they had checked out his storage space where all of his possessions had been delivered, there really wasn't much left to do. Neither of them gambled much, but they did go see two shows. Since they were spending most of their time in bed, it made sense to go back to San Francisco, anyway. They went to a few furniture stores and Gil ordered a bed and a few other basic pieces, but furniture wasn't that important to him. He knew he would be spending most of his time at work for the first few months. Plus, it felt a little strange to be buying furniture with Sara. That was something "couples" did. It caused him to remember that their time was drawing to a close.

He helped her pack up her things for the move to Boston. She was going to be living with friends of Dr. Sayers' for a while until she decided whether or not to get her own place or try to put her name on a waiting list for campus housing. Fortunately, Kendall was renting her apartment for the next year, so she didn't have to paint over the periodic table. Gil had heard the story of how her apartment was decorated and it just seemed so much like Sara. She told him about her room reminding her of a sunset and he liked her apartment as much as she did. It was a cozy place for them to be.

When Gil was able to step back and look at his life for the last two and a half months, he realized the fun she had brought into it. She had a sense of humor that brought out the best in him. She was playful and in many ways she had made him more lighthearted. He hadn't been very excited at the time, but she took him on two roller coaster rides while they were in Vegas and he thought he could be addicted to the rush of adrenaline that flooded his body. He had a feeling roller coasters would now be replacing sex in his life. That was going to be a huge letdown. He was mentally preparing his mind and body for a long dry spell. It would be a while before he could attempt to establish a rapport with a woman that wouldn't make him compare any new women to Sara.

It was time. Together they loaded his van in silence. Gil had a huge lump in his throat.

"Sara, I don't know if I can put into words what this summer has meant to me," he said.

She blinked her eyes rapidly. "We had fun, didn't we?" her voice trembled and broke.

He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a lingering kiss. "We've never been two people who play games with each other. Promise me you'll call whenever you want. You'll never be an intrusion in my life. Email me, instant message me…just don't disappear from my life," he said.

He opened the driver's door to the van and removed a small, wrapped box. "This is for you," he said. She reached inside her coat and removed a flat package. "Great minds think alike-this is for you," she said.

There was a brief awkwardness until Gil leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Please know that this isn't 'goodbye'. I won't say it. It's until….until we meet again, Sara," he said.

She watched him drive away. He turned the corner two blocks away and she stood on the sidewalk for a moment. This was an incredibly awful feeling. She tried to think of a worse moment in her life and none came immediately to her mind.

She went back into her apartment and for the first time it seemed empty and cold. She sat down on the futon and opened the package. When she opened the box it held a gold heart-shaped locket that had a butterfly engraved on it. Opening the locket, she found a tiny picture of Coit Tower at sunset. There was no note, there really didn't need to be. She let the tears run down her face and sobbed openly.

Gil had watched her in his rearview mirror until he turned the corner. He tore open the package and found a framed roll of parchment in Sara's handwriting. He recognized the poem immediately.

i carry your heart with me by ee cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)

i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called

life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the starts apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Gil's breath caught when he finished reading. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn around and go back to her. It took all of his willpower to shift into drive and head south to Los Angeles. In later years, he tried not to look back, but his heart would never let him look ahead.

Epilogue

March 2007

"Gil? Gil? Hey, Griss what's in this box labeled Berkley?" Sara called out loud enough to be heard at the other end of the house.

"Berkley? I don't know, you're handwriting or mine?" he yelled back.

"It's your chicken scratch," Sara replied. "Oh, wow! You have to see this!"

Gil came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He looked over her shoulder at the box on the counter. She had pulled out pictures of the two of them at Coit Tower.

"My God, I remember that day, like it was yesterday. You were so cute and sexy," she said.

"That must be my notes and stuff from when I taught. Hey! What do you mean 'were'," he replied good-naturedly.

She laid the pictures on the counter and pawed through the box. "You kept student forms? Hey! What are these notes? You kept notes on all your students? Where's mine?" she asked in a rush of questions.

A sudden horrifying thought swept through Gil as the years fell away and his memory became crystal clear. He willed his body not to stiffen in panic. He took the cards out of her hands and spun her around. He pressed a kiss to her lips and slowly teased her mouth.

"Miss Sidle, I just finished making our new bed, in our new house. I do believe we should christen it," he said seductively. He danced her through the house to their bedroom.

Later, as Sara was drowsily succumbing to sleep she whispered, "I do believe you have improved your technique over the years, Dr. Grissom."

He kissed her hair and struggled not to fall into a deep slumber as well. As soon as she was breathing heavily and regularly he eased himself from the bed. He pulled on his boxers and padded to the kitchen. He located the form he was looking for and glanced at the words he had written on it in complete ignorance at the time. 'CHEATER and late on day 1' started back at him. He quietly removed the card, put in his briefcase and made a mental note to remember to shred it as soon as he arrived in his office that night.

Then he returned to bed and to the woman who carried his heart and so much more.

The End

A/N: This happy ending is brought to you by the request of the Beta from hell. I wanted to cut it off before the epilogue. I am doing an informal poll as to who is interested in having me post the inside jokes and/or pop culture twists. Several of them were never mentioned. Let me know. I am sure I will be playing around with this in the future and making minor changes.


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